


What if Crowfeather's Trial had a Villain

by Mellowix



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Murder Mystery, WindClan (Warriors)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellowix/pseuds/Mellowix
Summary: After the bloody aftermath of the Dark Forest's slaughter, Breezepelt must face the unforgiving clanmates who wish exile and death upon him. How far are they willing to go?
Relationships: Breezepelt/Heathertail (Warriors), Crowfeather/Nightcloud (Warriors)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a crime mystery, so before moving onto Chapter 2, it would be really helpful if you could put your prediction for the culprit in the comments. Thanks!

As the vigil for the fallen of the Great Battle drifted apart, Crowfeather travelled the Journey back to camp alone. Making sure to keep a brisk pace so he didn’t pass Breezepelt, hovering at the back with Heathertail. Is this seriously what their relationship been reduced to? Would he ignore his son for the rest of his life? How could he fail so terribly as a father to have raised this short tempered fleabag? 

The suspicious whispers and glares towards the former trainees were still heavy in the air. Most of it directed at the black warrior. Despite his better judgement, Crowfeather’s morbid curiosity made him eavesdrop on one of those heated conversations. Clustered in a group of five, they were too busy hissing to notice their spying clannate.“Can you believe this?” Gorsetail growled, lashing her tail. “Onestar wants us to honour the fallen warriors, yet he allows the traitors who murdered them to be present at their vigil.”

“Hey, that’s hardly fair,” Crouchfoot snapped, forcing Boulderfur to step out of his path as he faced his former mentor. “There was no fighting among Clanmates. Most of the Trainees turned against the Dark Forest as soon as they realised they were tricked.”

“Most,” Leaftail corrected. “Not all.”. Crowfeather instantly flinched at the hostility his voice, knowing exactly who he was talking about. Pressing closer into Leaftail’s flank, Gorsetail’s eyes darkened, “Exactly. The Elders tell us stories about Clan cats joining Bloodclan in the Old forest. And what happened to them? Driven out like the traitors they were. Breezepelt should be no different. Yes, Onestar keeps insisting he never technically harmed a Windclan cat himself - But isn't supporting the side who were killing us just as bad? How can we ever trust him again?”

Both Crounchfoot and Boulderfur’s pelts bristled uncomfortably as they were reminded of facts. As well as Crowfeather. What was he doing listening to this foxdung? Lifting his head, Leaftail confidently asserted his stance, “I certainly never will.”.

“The Clan might be better off without Breezepelt,” Gorsetail meowed. “If a fox or badger took care of him tomorrow, it would probably be Starclan's punishment. .” While Crounchfoot suppressed a sigh, Boulderfur lowered his head silently. However, that was nothing compared to Crowfeather’s loud gasp of horror. The gossiping crowd halted, turning guilty faces towards Breezepelt’s father. Were they all Featherbrains? He himself wasn’t sure his son could be trusted, but wishing death on him didn’t help anyone! Since Gorsetail had lost two daughters in the Great Battle, her words generally seemed dangerous. 

His cover had been blown long ago, but he didn’t care as he stared his clanmates down. “Uh . . . Crowfeather . . . ,” Gorsetail finally began. Snorting in disgust, Crowfeather barged his way into the heart of the group. Flanking the grey she-cat out of their ranks, he guided them away from earshot of the other confused cats. Unlike the rest of Windclan, there was an unspoken connection between him and Gorsetail. As a forbidden mate himself, he been in the unique position to figure out her affair with a Riverclan tom. Surprisingly, Gorsetail calmly made no resistance of being shoved around like fresh-kill. Lowering their heads, the frustrated father made his mind known, "And here I was - Thinking at least you'd be sympathetic. Look how that turned out!".

Unfazed by his remark, Gorsetail kept a steady posture, "I don't know about you, Crowfeather - But I believe the child has a duty to be good to their parent, as it does the other way around. So you'd never get me reaccepting a kit who committed the hideous act of Fratricide.". Alarmingly, Crowfeather's mind came back with a blank. Retort back, you useless fleabag! Yet he couldn't. Gorsetail had the moral high ground compared to him. While he'd dealt with his past by taking an unloving mate and disowning his Half-clan kits - She'd remain faithful to both her kits and mate. Everything he should have been.

Understanding he was lost, Gorsetail silently returned to her companions. Leaftail laid his tail across her shoulder blades, "Even if Breezepelt's father overheard, it still needed to be spoken aloud for the sake of Windclan.". More bitter at himself than ever, Crowfeather shamefully retreated further back into the traveling assembly. It didn’t matter what they thought. Yet that rang hollow in his head. There was one cat’s opinion, he found himself wanting to know. Among those gossiping fools had been Boulderfur, Breezepelt's first and only apprentice. Crowfeather hadn't considered that until that point, too wrapped up in his own conflicted thoughts. 

Right on cue, he heard the young tom calling after him, “Crowfeather, wait!”. Muttering under his breath, Crowfeather slowed his pace. “Oh, now you decide to speak up? So you’re not mute after all.”, he huffed as the grey warrior joined him on the hillside. Taking a heartbeat to understand, Boulderfur nervously swallowed. “What do you mean?”, he politely asked.

The ice in his veins sparked into a raging fire. “Back there with Gorsetail’s death wish on Breezepelt! Where were you? Standing aside like a dead fox. It took Crounchfoot of all cats to call her out. How do you expect Windclan to be united again when you allow that to happen, Boulderfur?”, he growled, surprising himself with his angry rant. A cold shudder ran down his tail. He hadn’t felt this kind of blind protectiveness of Breezepelt in a long time. While logically knowing, he might not even deserve it. Instead of wandering off like expected, Boulderfur still kept in step. Crowfeather hadn’t known any other Windclan cat patient enough to stand this level of rudeness. Did He have any self-respect? Boulderfur wasn’t defending himself against any of the insults!

Calmly Boulderfur replied to the senior warrior’s rambling, “I just wasn’t trying to take sides. I don’t know what to think about Breezepelt. That’s why I wanted to talk to as many cats as possible. Including you.”. Crowfeather opened his mouth to tell him to go away, but for once, held his tongue. It might have been this lack of communication that led to Breezepelt siding with the Dark forest in the first place.

“What do you expect to get out of me then?”, Crowfeather questioned. Boulderfur shrugged, “I’m not entirely sure. But there is one question - Were you surprised by Breezepelt’s betrayal?”. The word betrayal seemed harsh, but Crowfeather reluctantly admitted it was the most accurate term. Carefully going through every memory of Breezepelt, it couldn’t be said one moment was the obvious turning point. That tense atmosphere between the two had sadly been the norm since Breezepelt’s earliest apprentice days.

“If Breezepelt had gone after me, probably not. But the fact he was willing to brag innocent cats into it, including his half-siblings, did though.”, he mumbled. It was eerily similar to Crowfeather, how almost no one was immune to their spitting comments. However, when had it made the transition from aggression to violence? What had Breezepelt hoped to get out of killing Lionblaze?

Pausing to leap over a heather-cover ditch, Boulderfur mewed thoughtfully, “While training with him, he did always had a sense of...superiority about him.” The realisation hit Crowfeather like a falling branch. No wonder Boulderfur had been so tolerant of his prickly nature. He’d be gotten used to it from the moons under Breezepelt’s mentorship!

Almost missing Boulderfur’s next response while thinking, Crowfeather had to prick his ears, “I know Onestar claimed Breezepelt didn’t attack any Windclan cats - But do we know that for sure? Would he be willing to go that far?”. Unwanted flashbacks came to the forefront of Crowfeather’s mind. Recalling when he’d been sent to aid Thunderclan during a Dark forest assault, Breezepelt had briefly been running behind him, teeth bared. He’d managed to keep one step ahead, so his son never had the chance to enact his true intentions. If Breezepelt had caught up with him, would he have attacked?

Forced to dismiss as it as speculation, Crowfeather sighed heavily, “Unless you’ve got some counter-evidence, that’s the stance Onestar determined to take. Make Windclan look good or whatever.”

Boulderfur dipped his head, “That’s not the only thing Onestar determined to change. Everyone noticed your avoidance of Breezepelt, so he’ll probably have a word with you. Just a heads up.”. Great, he had the Clan leader on his case. The constant gossip behind his back had been exhausting enough.

“Hope he doesn’t stick his muzzle too far into my business. I won’t be told how fast I should forgive such crimes.”, Crowfeather mewed bitterly.

“It sounds like you haven’t forgiven him yet. But you seemed so adamant to defend him earlier.”, Boulderfur observe,d his voice level. Flaring his nostrils, Crowfeather considered whether he wanted to carry on speaking with the nosy cat. It’s been a long time since anyone bothered asking him such deep questions. They’d usually resort to judging him instead. Though Considering the tough Circumstances, tough questions would naturally come along with it.

“I have to. I’m the furball's father. If I don’t do it, no one will.”, he mewed half-heartedly. Why he tried lying there, he didn’t know. It was so obvious, a kit could tell. Gazing out into the wide blue sky, Boulderfur seemed to search the skies for Starclan warriors, “I may not know what it’s like to be a father yet, but should you force yourself to support Breezepelt? Especially after he tried killing your other son?”.

“Nightcloud would say otherwise.”, he pointed out. Ever since the Great Battle had ended, Nightcloud hadn’t left their son’s side. Lashing out at any suggestion of exiling her last surviving kit. It was probably the only reason he was still in Windclan. It was a blessing she hadn’t heard Gorsetail’s comment.

“Your relationship with your family may be complicated.”, Boulderfur purposefully put lightly, “But I doubt even the best father could ignore what Breezepelt has done.”. If Breezepelt had the best father, could this have all been prevented? How much was his natural personality and how much was nurtured into him? There were so many factors: Crowfeather’s distance, Leafpool’s Secret, Nightcloud’s clinginess and Breezepelt’s short-temper. All of it was the perfect storm to bring out the worst in the emotional tom.

“I suppose so.”, Crowfeather replied quietly to Boulderfur, not paying attention anymore. Though the anger steadily built up again. The Dark forest’s manipulation couldn’t have been that effective, as only two trainees sided with them in the end. Redwillow already having been executed. Over his life, Breezepelt had level-headed cats like Heathertail and Whitetail to support him from his quarreling parents. Yet he choose not to deal with his issues, all while understanding what the Dark forest truly was. Allied with the same cats that had killed Ashfoot!

Sensing Crowfeather’s anger scent, Boulderfur nodded, “For a while, I wanted to give Breezepelt the benefit of the doubt, even if he was only an average mentor. So when it turned out Furzepelt bragged her apprentice, Larkwing into Dark forest training - I assumed the best of Breezepelt. How naive of me. It could of just as easily been him not caring at all. That’s why I need to know the reason. From him and him alone.”

Without realising it, both toms stood on the outer reaches of the sandy camp. Clanmates poured into the entrance, without noticing them, eager to get sleep after an emotionally draining ceremony. Among the shuffling crowd, he could still spot Leaftail and Gorsetail close together. Constantly giving dirty looks towards the former trainees, who kept to themselves. Those two were rapidly getting infuriating. Boulderfur took a firm step into the gorse tunnel, stating words that rang in Crowfeather’s head like a cave echo, “Whether you forgive or disown your son, Crowfeather, trust your instincts. They’re not usually wrong. And just remember, Breezepelt the guilty one, no one else.”.

***************

Shaking his pelt free of grass and feathers, Crowfeather hobbled into the dawn light. With all the recent rumours of ghosts and stoats, he hoped this day would be a little less chaotic. At least Windclan could refocus their aggression on something other than the trainees for awhile. Sticking to the bushes’ shade, Crowfeather tried to be unseen by Harespring, so he wasn’t given an early patrol. Yet a greeting from Whitetail gave him away, sunning herself on a sandy patch, “Morning Crowfeather.”, she purred, “How’s Featherpaw’s training going?”.

“Urr- Pretty well. She’s just started on how to fight Dogs.”, he confirmed. Overhearing their exchange, Harespring beckoned the two to the center of camp. Yawning as he went over, Crowfeather joined the small crowd being assigned duties. Curiously there was no apprentices insight. “Crounchfoot and Whitetail, can you hunt near the Lake? No one’s hunted around there for a while.”

Mouse dung! The two most easy-going warriors wouldn’t be on his patrol. Checking his remaining options, it didn’t look good. Either Breezepelt himself or someone who opposed him. The black warrior sulkily stared down at his paws, not making eye contact with his father.

Like Boulderfur predicted, Onestar had pushed Crowfeather to reconnect with his Windclan family. It had been awkward for both sides, even making simple small talk. At least this patrol might give them another chance. One painful step at a time, he guessed. Before Harespring could give the next order, Onestar appeared from behind him, quickly whispering in his ear. The sly expression Harespring made as he agreed, irked Crowfeather. What were those two planning?

“Gorsetail, Breezepelt and Crowfeather, I want you hunting near the Abandoned Badger set. Careful not to fall in though.”, Harespring mewed strictly. Was he featherbrained? Enemies didn’t suddenly become friends by forcing them into the same area! Did he expect them to return frolicking around in the field of friendship? Breezepelt hardly connected to his own father, let alone somoene who'd prefer him dead. The tips of Gorsetail’s lips twitched as it threatened to form into a snarl, “Are you sure this is safe?”.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you actually communicated like grown warriors.” Onestar mewed, “But you leave no choice. For Windclan to thrive, all our clanmates must accept each other.” Breezepelt and Gorsetail flattened their ears, taking several steps apart. Frustration almost formed into a hiss in Crowfeather’s throat. He’d be the only warrior who could prevent the argument from blowing up into a full-out fight. Would he really risk putting Featherpaw in harm’s way?

“What about Featherpaw?”, Crowfeather objected. “They’ll be training with me.”, Heathertail’s voice sounded. The brown tabby had Hootpaw and Featherpaw bounding behind her paws. Puffing up his chest proudly for his daughter, Onestar explained, “With the threat of stoats, our apprentices need to know how to fight underground. Since Heathertail is especially skilled at that, she’ll take their training for today.”.

Standing next to her, Harespring added in, “I’ll be supervising as well, so the session will have enough protection.” Wandering up to her mentor, Featherpaw blinked up at him with wide blue eyes, “I’ll make sure I beat Hootpaw this time.”, she promised. Sweeping her bristling fur down with his tail, Crowfeather coolly reminded her, “It’s not a competition, Featherpaw. It’ll work better in the long term if you learn at your own pace.”.

Nodding, Crowfeather sent her back with a flick of his tail and soon the four cats left for their training. Regretfully, he turned around towards his own patrol. A hint of jealousy flashed in Breezepelt’s amber eyes. Whether it was Heathertail hanging with another Tom or his encouragement of Featherpaw, Crowfeather couldn’t tell. One step at a time, he reminded himself. Sharply turning her head towards Breezepelt, Gorsetail gave her only warning, “We’re only hunting, nothing else. So we don’t need to say anything to each other.”

Breezepelt flexed his claws on the weedy grass under paw, “Fine by me. I have nothing to say to you anyway.” Carefully, Onestar studied his warriors. Even as a leader, he couldn’t force them to talk and it would be foolish to try. Hopefully, he was starting to regret his decision. “You may not want to speak with Breezepelt, Gorsetail - But I do.”, Boulderfur’s voice sounded, standing beside his leader, “If that’s alright with you, Onestar?”

Shuffling awkwardly on his paws, Breezepelt didn’t seem ready to face his former apprentice. “I can deal with that.”, he muttered. In a rare moment, he was exhausted, when he seemed to have an endless pool of anger. The daily criticism he got since the Great Battle was starting to take it out of him.

“Of course. At least one cat is seeing sense.”, Onestar chuffed with relief, “Make sure to bring back plenty of prey.”. Finally, he seemed satisfied, leaving them alone to get on with their duties. With a mutual understanding between them, Boulderfur and Crowfeather shared a nod. Now it wouldn’t be such an impossible task to keep the peace.

Soon the patrol ran across the open moor, a fresh wind rippling his whiskers. Almost Crowfeather could forget his mess of a life and feel like a trouble-free apprentice again - No forbidden mates and no estranged kits. Smooth stones jutted out of the ground like fangs, requiring to veering around. Following well-worn tracks, where the stems lay flattened on their sides. Tasting the air, the scents of two legs or their tamed animals were stale, promising a safe hunt.

As the land arched down into a shallow slope, giving a grand view of the massive blue lake, sparkling in the bright sun. The ground became sandy under paw, a large ditch was hidden among thick gorse. Dark crevasses and black cracks ran across the whole length of the dried river bed. The abandoned badger set. Now to keep Gorsetail and Breezepelt separated. “Alright, we can cover more ground if we split to do both sides.” Crowfeather mewed sternly, “Gorsetail, do you want to take the north side with me?”. If it was obvious what he was trying to do, he didn’t really care. He doubted Gorsetail would be offended, Breezepelt though… “Sounds a plan.” Gorsetail answered, strangely cheerful, leaping over the badger set. She called out towards Boulderfur as he led Breezepelt towards the south side, "Try to track down that Hare we spotted yesterday. It still might be lurking around."

The sturdy grey tom nodded over his shoulder, "It’ll probably need two cats to take the massive thing down.”. Rushing on ahead with determination, Breezepelt seemed eager to prove himself, “Didn’t I teach how to take down large opponents?”, he yelled behind him, “I’ll just have to show you again when I take down that hare alone.”. Though Boulderfur’s focus remains steadily on the hunt ahead, not replying as they disappeared over the grassy ridge.

For a heartbeat, it seemed like the young toms were like brothers, competing on who could catch the most prey. Though since neither Crowfeather nor Breezepelt grew up with littermates, he couldn’t be sure it was an accurate comparison. Would it have been different if all of Nightcloud’s litter had survived? It had been the Inseparable Bond of his Thunderclan kits that allowed them not to seek revenge after discovering their mothers lied to them.

Even this far out of camp, Breezepelt wasn't safe from judging eyes - In the far distance, Leaftail and Oatpaw carried fresh-kill across a stretching field. Eventually their pelts fading into the dull and pale greens of the lush moor. There was a sudden jolt in his flank, as Gorsetail gave him a friendly nudge, “Those were some quick planning skills. Honestly, I still don’t know why Harespring became deputy over you.”. His paws tinged with discomfort. Deep down, he did agree with her. The trainees may have been forgiven but wasn't giving one free deputyship going too far? There were far more deserving Windclan cats, whose loyalty never wavered.

But if it was public knowledge he didn’t fully support the trainees, his frail relationship with Breezepelt and Nightcloud could crumble. So Crowfeather just mewed something generic, “I think a lot of cats would like to be deputy, but it's still Onestar’s choice in the end.”. The words that came out of his mouth, he didn’t like. Sounding like a suck-up to Onestar when he wasn’t. The same cat who told Crowfeather that Lionblaze’s attempted murder supposedly didn’t matter because he was Thunderclan. The four clans were allies during the Great Battle!

“Let’s get hunting already.”, Crowfeather huffed, wanting to burn off some energy. Leaving Gorsetail behind, the senior warrior lunged into the bushes. Falling into a crawl, steadily moving through the dried brush, alert for the slightest rustle. Nearby twigs and leaves rattled. Instantly, Crowfeather pounced. The Fluffy white fur of his prey spiked as claws struck it. Suddenly, needle-fangs dug into his nose. Prey that fought back?

Recoiling, Crowfeather thrashed on the floor to get the stubborn creature off. Hooking its tail, the grey Tom finally pinned and killed his prey. It was a long slender body with stocky legs and a stumpy tail. His tail twitched. It was a stoat. They were active this deep into the territory? They weren’t that far away from camp!

A deafening rumble like thunder shook the earth itself. It came from the other side of the Badger set, where Breezepelt and Boulderfur were posted. Kicking dust on the dead stoat, Crowfeather hurried to his paws and sped towards the noise. Clambering up serval rocks, he searched the landscape. In the distance, Gorsetail crouched on an earthy mound, lashing her tail. While only half of Boulderfur’s tail was visible, the rest of him hidden underground.

Within moments, Crowfeather joined his clanmates, “What’s happening?”, he demanded. “It’s Breezepelt!”, Boulderfur panted, his head emerging from an old burrow, “He chased the hare into the Tunnel and it collapsed!”. Above the burrow was a withered tree, it roots the only thing holding up the burrow’s feeble ceiling. Furiously twisting round to Gorsetail, Crowfeather barked orders, “Whatever he’s done, you still have to save your clanmate, you swore it at your warrior’s ceremony! I’ll search for another way in.”.

Hesitate, Gorsetail leapt to Boulderfur’s side, scraping at endless pebbles blocking the tunnel. Preying to Starclan it wasn’t too late, Crowfeather quickly studied the ceiling for any weaknesses. Fissures slithered across the floor, promising an easier way in. Yet it wasn’t necessary. As the situation somehow erupted into chaos. Muffled screams came from under the earth, too high pitched to be Breezepelt’s.

Pure horror crept over Boulderfur’s face, yowling, “Who is that?.”. Gorsetail crawled out from the burrow’s entrance, shaking the grains from her pelt, “That’s Featherpaw, she’s training with three others underground!”. A haze of confusion came over Boulderfur, as he looked frantically around as if he was blind. Reminded that he hadn’t been present when Onestar explained it. “M-Maybe they found Breezepelt.”, Crowfeather stuttered, unconvinced by his own words. More yowls rose up in the air, much like the cries of battle.

“They’re probably trying to escape from another tunnel entrance. We've got to go, now!”, Gorsetail yelled, shoving a shaking Boulderfur out of the pit. “You have to go ahead, I’ve got to dig out Breezepelt.”, Crowfeather uttered, bunching up his muscles. Though Gorsetail stopped him by gripping his scruff. Before Crowfeather could knock her away, Gorsetail argument made him stop, “If you help the patrol first, Breezepelt will be saved faster with seven cats.”.

Even his panicked mind preferred the better odds, agreeing with a grunt. Letting him go, the three warriors traced the noise's source to a steep hillside. As he left the collapsed tunnel behind, Crowfeather hoped there was enough space between the rockslide for Breezepelt to have a few critical lung-fulls of air. Don’t die on me now.

The territory itself seemed to turn on Crowfeather, every stem and pebble threatening to trip him up. Then just below a rocky outcrop overlooking the whole place, the patrol discovered Hootpaw and Featherpaw withering wildly as a dozen stoats overpowered them. Risking his life in an instant, Crowfeather plunged into the storming lake of fighting.

Grabbing a stoat by its throat, Crowfeather ripped it from Featherpaw’s shredded flank. A satisfying crunch of bone as he chomped down, then spat it out. Standing over a flustered Featherpaw, he nudged until she stood up. “Keep behind me and cover for my blind spots.”, he breathed. The young she-cat could recall their earlier lesson, falling into perfect formation. Rearing up, they became an impassable whirlpool of teeth and claws.

Balancing on her front paws, Gorsetail double kicked two stoats charging at her like a deer. Twisting onto all four again, she pinned one down while the other scampered away. Sneering, Crowfeather slammed heavily onto the running coward. The weight alone was enough to put it into shock. Stepping aside, he left it for the slow death this stoat deserved.

Though its friend wanted to avenge it, as a female dug its nasty teeth into his tail. Before he could reach down, it wriggled between his legs. No matter which direction he swiped his claws, he could never find the pest. Another bite and Crowfeather had enough. Dropping his belly to the ground, he heard the pained groan of a small animal. After the dazed stoat emerged from under him, Crowfeather flipped it into the air and Featherpaw caught it. Knowing she could deal with it, her mentor searched elsewhere on the battlefield.

Slashing left to right, Boulderfur battered the three stoats climbing on top of Hootpaw. Solving it before Crowfeather could help, the grey warrior lifted the largest stoat by its scruff, flinging it into nearby brambles. It must have been the leader, as the two others retreated after it.

Heavily exhaling, Hootpaw limped with a deep bitemark on his back leg, resting on Boulderfur’s side. Regret pricked Crowfeather’s fur when it became obvious the apprentices had received the worst of the wounds. Along with Hootpaw’s leg, Featherpaw had a fur patch ripped from her shoulder. The rest of them barely shed a drop of blood, mainly ruffled fur. Yet it still wasn’t over.

“P-please, you have to go down there. Harespring and Heatherta-.”, Featherpaw begged, trailing off to catch her breath. Like a startled rabbit, Hootpaw swiped his tail towards an opening between boulder sticking out of the steep cliffside. Desperation clung to his shaky voice like frost as he paced around, “Breezepelt got lost the tunnels and they’re still trying to save him from the stoats - Heathertail refusing to leave him!”.

”How did Breezepelt outrun the rockslide?”, Boulderfur gasped, trying to block Hootpaw’s path so he couldn’t worsen his injured paw. “Who cares? Breezepelt alive, Featherbrain!”, the paranoid father snapped, aching to help. Keeping a clear head, Gorsetail sprang into action, “Boulderfur get the apprentices to a safe distance. Crowfeather, you’re with me.”.

They stood at the lip of the narrow entrance, staring down into the darkness. A damp draft howled out into the outside, carrying stoat scent with it. The only question was, where they still close and how many? Without another moment to lose, they lowered onto their bellies while Boulderfur and the apprentices went in the opposite direction. Black stone walls enclosed in on Gorsetail and Crowfeather tightly, like being swallowed down a throat as fresh-kill. Leaving the comfort of fresh wind and soft grass behind. The wet surface chilling on his paw pads. Every step taken, the gift of sight was steadily being taken away. How did Jayfeather deal with it every day?

Yet it wasn’t long before cries split the echoing silence, rapid flickers of movements serval fox-lengths up ahead. Abruptly, Harespring’s breath blew at Crowfeather’s whiskers, “You shouldn’t of come here! Too many cats are already in danger!”. Beyond the deputy, Crowfeather could barely make out a larger chamber. Enough space for two cats to fight side by side. “That’s my son down there.”, he growled, making Harespring press against the ragged stone as he passed by. Even Crowfeather’s slender frame could barely wriggle past Harespring’s white and brown body, sucking in his lungs for the last part. The wider Gorsetail could never get through the one-way path.

“It's pointless, just get back to the surface.”, Crowfeather called up, unsure if they heard his words. “Starclan will honour your bravery!”, was Harespring’s parting message, as their shadows faded into the blackness, towards the dim sunlight. “Can’t say the same about you.”, Crowfeather snorted despite no one hearing it. Since he’d already decided those grim caves wouldn’t be anyone’s death place, he allowed himself some sarcasm. Even if it was unnecessary, it still kept his fear at bay.

And then in typical Breezepelt fashion, “Let me go first! Those stoats will discover the hard way why you don’t ambush me.”. Luckily Crowfeather didn’t need to be present to knock sense into him, Heathertail did it for him. “Shut up! The stoats might hear you. I know those tunnels better anyway.”, she argued.

“Listen to her, Beezepelt.”, Crowfeather mewed, stepping out from the corner. Eyes widening, the black tom stared at his father as if he was a green hedgehog. “You came down here?”, he uttered, too shocked to form a more complex sentence. “Of course I did. Now let’s get out of here already. “, he ordered, not able to waste a singal heartbeat. Especially since they had many gashes across their bodies. As the stoats had already struck, they may be looking to finish the job. Brushing him with her tail gratefully, Heathertail purred into his ear, “I knew you would.”.

Placing himself last in the signal-file line, Crowfeather readied himself to ascend the smaller cave path. Distant scuffing could be heard from the cracks. “Quickly!”, Heathertail screeched, as a wave of angry stoats burst into the chamber. Kicking up clouds of grit in their wake, the Windclan cats pushed their gift of speed to its limits. Not caring if anyone twisted a muscle, Crowfeather pressed into Breezepelt’s flank, forcing everyone to run faster up the tunnel. Endless squeaks were all that filled his ears, unable to hear his own footsteps. Tiny fangs skimmed his tail’s tip, as the hungry creatures tried to get a taste of his blood. Yet one firm bite managed to interrupt his strides, toppling. Sparks flashed in his vision as his head scraped against the hard stone. Unable to stop it, Breezepelt got caught up in Crowfeather’s flailing paws, swirling down in a hissing pile of fur.

Swarming like ants, an overwhelming amount of stoats weighing them down, shreds of dark fur scattering. Feebly, Crowfeather used all his legs to propel as many stoats away as possible. Yet every one driven away, two more took its place. It was impossible to reach Breezepelt struggling next to him. Then teeth met Crowfeather’s throat. Tasting blood creeping at the edge of his tongue. He couldn’t die to those fleabags! The presence hovering over his head suddenly disappeared. More weight steadily lifted from Crowfeather’s heaving body. Leaning over him, Heathertail’s jaws snapped like a snake, desperately trying to save her former mentor. One after the other, the stoat’s spines were crushed by killing bites. Limp bodies of Heathertail’s prey stacked up like a fresh-kill pile. Gripping Crowfeather by the shoulders, the she-cat awkwardly slides him behind her in the confined space. Left stunned on his side, Crowfeather could only wheeze for air.

The energy slowly returning to him, he lifted his head. Shapes flickered at the top of a long slope, their features drowned out by sunlight. The way to freedom was near!  
Yet it wasn’t over, no matter how much he begged it be. Yowling, Breezepelt limped up the steep pathway like a frog, four stoats dragging him back by his tail. Barely standing himself, Crowfeather couldn’t help him in time, before Heathertail had to take his place.

Using Breezepelt’s body like a ledge, Heathertail leapt over him, directly landing into the swarm of stoats. Spinning on her hind legs, her front paws flashed in long arches, aiming for as many targets as possible. Using her flank to block them from Breezepelt and Crowfeather. Larger than the others, a stoat propelled itself forward with the stone wall, aiming for her neck. Ducking her head, the stoat had nothing to land on but thin-air, separated from its allies.

Grabbing the chance, Breezepelt plucked it from mid-air. Locked in combat, they rolled over each other, neither side giving in. The stoat’s swiping paws narrowly held back from Breezepelt’s vulnerable eyes. Suddenly, the black tom went limp, allowing his shocked opponent to helplessly fall into his open jaws. At last, Crowfeather managed to scramble to his paws, giving an approving nod. In the gloom, Breezepelt’s face appeared young again, glowing with pride. Could that small action really mean so much to him? However, the moment couldn’t last, as Heathertail’s blood splashed onto the rocky floor. Teeth had dug deep into her flank, red staining her whole side.

Plunging their heads forward, they dragged her by the scruff, out of the forever piling stoats. How many was she holding back? Opening her lips in a gasp, blood boiled at the back of Heathertail’s throat. Wedging himself between their vicious attackers and his friend, Breezepelt tirelessly swatted stoats like flies. Using the chance his son provided, Crowfeather heaved Heathertail onto his back, groaning with the effort. With a few fox-lengths left of the steep climb - Crowfeather took one agonizing step after the other, his muscles screaming for him to stop. Yet he couldn’t stop. Three cats might die.

“Hurry up!”, Breezepelt spat, panicked, headbutting at Crowfeather’s flank, while he kicked sand back at the stoats, agitating their senses. The familiar moor air rushed into his lungs. Collapsing to the surface, Crowfeather and Heathertail rolled away from each other. Numbness spread over his body, now helpless if the stoats decided to carry on the chase. Dimly, he noticed Gorsetail and Harespring above him, hovering outside the entrance, brambles hanging in their jaws. As Breezepelt lunged outside and the pink noses of the stoats emerged from the darkness, they instantly moved in. Using their front paws, they crammed the large clumps between the boulders. “Another stock!”, Gorsetail ordered and Boulderfur nudged over the third tangle of dried stems, thorns this time.

Carefully threading the stems, Harespring didn’t stop until a thick, prickly wall blocked the death trap. Though shuffling and squeaking could still be heard from the other side. Unless that barrier gained serious reinforcements like stone, it wouldn’t last long against those stubborn creatures. But that was a duty for another patrol. For now, all of Crowfeather’s patrol could do was get healed. Groggily twisting onto his stomach, he lifted his head to search around, “Did the apprentices get away?”, he breathed. Nervously approaching, Boulderfur allowed the older warrior to lean against his shoulder, “Leaftail and Oatpaw were training nearby, so I got them to take the apprentices back camp before rushing back here.”, the grey tom explained, “No doubt Kestrelflight will be caring for them now.”.

Proving himself to be a skilled healer, Crowfeather felt confident Featherpaw would make a speedy recovery under Kestrelflight’s care. “They’re not the only ones who need Kestrelflight.”, Harespring muttered dryly behind them, arching his ears towards Heathertail, unmoving on the ground. Standing over her, Gorsetail lapped at her deep wounds while Breezepelt continuously shook her, “She saved me.”, he uttered, bewildered, “Then I have to return the favour - I’ll be carrying her back.” Crouching closer, the black tom whispered into her ear, “You’re stronger than this. Don’t let a bunch of stupid stoats finish you off.”.

Leaving Crowfeather’s side, Boulderfur hurried to Heathertail, guilt pricking his fur. Briefly thinking his apprentice was a stoat, Breezepelt raised a paw to defend Heathertail. Reconvicing Boulderfur again, he lowered it again, yet still kept an intimidating stance. Keeping an eye on Breezepelt so he couldn’t be scratched, the pale tom reached for Heathertail’s scruff, “Heathertail needs to get to Kestrelflight immediately. If she has any chance, I have to carry her as the least injured. Back up should coming back soon to help the rest of you.”

Before Breezepelt could argue back, Gorsetail slapped her tail over his mouth, “We appreciate your sentiment, Breezepelt. Truly. But for Heathertail’s sake, you must be realistic. Boulderfur the only one fit enough to save her.”. Growling under his breath, he gave a moody nod, stepping out of the way. A surprising sense of familiarity came over Crowfeather. He would've given anything to save Feathertail all those seasons ago. Surely his son wouldn’t have to carry the same guilt in his lifetime? With that, Boulderfur pushed the limp Heathertail onto his back with Gorsetail’s aid. All the time, Breezepelt paced behind them, as if the earth itself could swallow Heathertail up at any time.

Soon, Boulderfur and Heathertail had disappeared deeper into the Windclan’s moors, going the long quest back to camp. Please Starclan, let Heathertail be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

“Watch it!”, Crowfeather snapped, as Kestrilflight gripped a loose stoat claw between his teeth and pulled it from his dark pelt. That’s Disgusting...Holding a soaked moss ball to the hole left behind, the Medicine cat mewed, “You’ll be fine for now. So keep the moss ball on and get some rest.”. Then he hurriedly gathered up his herbs and shuffled towards the next patient, all before Crowfeather could reply. It was hard not to have a pang of sympathy for the over-worked tom. It was ridiculous Kestrilflight hadn’t gotten himself an apprentice already.

Flopping onto his side, Crowfeather lapped at his shallow cuts. On a nest close to his own, Nightcloud protectively circled Breezepelt, licking up any trickle of blood. Not once taking notice of her injured mate a fox-length away. Settling into Breezepelt’s side, Nightcloud laid her head on his shoulder, “Oh, my perfect kit. How could they let this happen to you?”. Tail twitching with nerves, Crowfeather wondered what the right thing to say in this situation was. Leave Nightcloud to fuss over their kit or repeat Kestrelflight’s report to her? Deciding to be honest, Crowfeather lifted his chin, “Breezepelt’s scratches will seal up quickly, Nightcloud. He doesn’t even need to stay overnight in the Medicine cat den.”.

“T-that’s good to hear.”, Nightcloud muttered, confused by Crowfeather’s break from his usual silence, “Though Breezepelt could have told me in his own time.”. The unneeded retort made his hope shrivel up like a rotten berry. Mousedang! What could he do that wouldn’t make his former mate instantly suspicious of him? Like one creature, the mother and son uneasily stared at Crowfeather. Without another word, they placed their heads back onto the bedding. Burying himself in the nest, Crowfeather groaned to himself. How long would it take to reconnect with them? Moons? Seasons? Never?

Around camp, the shock of having two patrols attacked by stoats was still fresh. Constantly worried gazes directed towards the eight patients piled around the Medicine cat den like a fresh-kill pile. Luckily most of them had come out unscathed, only a few scratches. Yet there were a few exceptions. While the apprentices had deep wounds, at least their lives weren’t in danger. Heathertail, on the other hand, remained unconscious. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of her chest, the untrained eye would assume she’s dead. Though Crowfeather wasn’t in the game of putting too much certainty into one possibility. Heathertail was still alive and only Kestrelflight could care for her. He couldn’t do anything about it. Whatever happened to his former apprentice, he’d have to deal with in the future but not now.

Nearby, Onestar and Harespring hissed at each other, unable to figure out how this could have happened. Though even if Crowfeather was deputy, he couldn’t say he’d do a better job. The slippery stoats hadn’t given many signs they were daring to travel so close to Windclan camp. No one would have guessed that the little vermin could be deadly.

It seemed Crowfeather wasn’t the only one thinking of the deputy, overhearing Breezepelt’s angry ramblings, “The nerve of Harespring to leave me in the tunnels. He’s got no excuse as another trainee!”. Wrapped around him, Nightcloud buried her head deeper into his neck, “He’s a coward.”, she insured, “If our Clanmates knew anything - Windclan would grow weaker if they left their strongest fighter to die.”.

In a rare instance of disagreeing with his mother, Breezepelt shook his head, “Not this time. It was Heathertail who saved my sorry tail from all those stoats.”, then more hesitantly he added, “And Crowfeather wasn’t far behind either." Surprisingly self-conscious, the older tom was reminded how much he disliked being the centre of attention, no matter how earnt it was.

Eyes widened to moons, Nightcloud’s jaw dropped slightly, “You went down the tunnels for Breezepelt?”. There was a shock in her tone. Had she forgotten Crowfeather had saved their son plenty of times before? Such as, digging him out of a sandpit or catching him before he fell off a cliff. “It was no big deal.”, the grey tom muttered. After a moment’s silence, Nightcloud dipped her head, “Thank you.”.

Returning the nod, Crowfeather then clambered out of his nest, excusing himself, “I’m going to stretch my legs.". Why was he so flushed? Finally, an interaction between his family that could be considered normal and he couldn’t handle it. Head spinning with thoughts, Crowfeather almost crashed into Boulderfur outside of the Medicine cat entrance. Bent over as if he was carrying a mountain, the pale warrior’s voice stuttered with guilt, “Sorry-Sorry!”. Was he in shock from the stoat attack?

“You could definitely go with some poppy seeds.”, Crowfeather commented at the trembling lump. Boulderfur’s sky-blue eyes darkened like twilight, before stalking further into the clearing, “I don't deserve any herbs.”. The self-loathing seemed excessive since all Boulderfur did was suggest an unlucky hunting spot. Though with the sheer scale of the disaster, Crowfeather couldn’t blame him either. If Breezepelt had died, Boulderfur would never get the answers he sought.

Leaving the young cat to self-pity, Crowfeather found an empty spot to be alone. However, someone had other plans, as a growing crowd disrupted his peace and quiet. At first, he could ignore it as muffled whispers but grew louder as Clanmates’ threw different opinion at each other. Yet one erupted above the rest, Leaftail preaching at the centre, “Isn’t it convenient when Breezepelt happens to get lost in the tunnels, both the stoats and the training patrol are in the same area? It seems like the perfect set up for another murder.”.

Pricking his ears, Crowfeather observed the crowd intensely, not liking where the topic was heading. Another wave of discussion swept through them. Couldn’t those foxhearts accept it as an accident and not twist it to accuse his son? Did they think Breezepelt would jeopardise his only opportunity to stay in Windclan? Struggling to get above the grown warriors’ heads, Slightpaw stretched up to have his voice heard, “Did Breezepelt even know about the battle practice underground? The unlucky apprentices were stuck with camp chores today.”.

The ginger warrior, Weaselfur joined Leaftail’s side, “Then why don’t we ask someone on Breezepelt’s patrol?”, he suggested cooly. Naturally, the attention was drawn towards Gorsetail shuffling uncomfortably in the corner. Typical. Instead of resting with the other injured, she joined this conversation. Though her hatred towards Breezepelt had seemed to mellow out since her death wishes on him a quarter-moon ago. She actually hesitated.

Answering Slightpaw’s question, Gorsetail strictly stuck to facts, “He found out just before he left to hunt. It wasn’t long before the cave-in trapped him in the Tunnel.”.

Had seeing Breezepelt fight the stoats changed Gorsetail’s option on him? Literally a day earlier, she would have jumped at the opportunity to undermine him. Slightpaw’s ear twitch thoughtfully, “Would Breezepelt willingly have rocks fall on him as a cover-up?”

Straightening up, Gorsetail shook her head, “It’s not a matter of choice. Unless Breezepelt has Starclan’s powers, he can’t cause a cave-in from the inside.”. Sneering to himself, Crowfeather couldn’t help but be amused by Leaftail and Weaselfur’s annoyed expressions. Those devoted to getting Breezepelt exiled was shrinking. Finally having enough, Onestar bounded over and barged his way into the crowd, he growled, “Not another word! There won’t be any baseless accusations in my camp!”

The yowling echoed to every corner of Windclan camp, drawing even the elders outside their den. At last, Nightcloud and Breezepelt realised what had been happening under their noses. Rasing to their paws, claws and teeth were drawn out. Before they stalked over, Whitetail pressed into Onestar’s flank, blinking thoughtfully, “no action needs to be taken against Breezepelt yet, but I think there should be an investigation. For Windclan’s safety, we can’t ignore those suspicious circumstances.”

Ignoring his bias as Breezepelt’s father, Crowfeather admitted it was the fairest solution. So whatever the painful truth was, justice would be served, either with Breezepelt’s exile or Leaftail’s humiliation. Though Nightcloud obviously wouldn’t accept it, standing by her son, seething with the same fire. A mixture of rage and desperation in the black she-cat voice, “How dare you to accuse him? He fought the stoats like any noble warrior. You can’t ignore the wounds he’s suffered for his clanmates!”.

Her fierce yowl sent the surrounding cats staggering back like frightened ants, though Leaftail and Weaslefur stood their ground. The accusers and accused sent low snarls at each other, fur bristling. Heart heavily thudding in his chest, Crowfeather rushed to block their path. What was fighting meant to achieve? Before Crowfeather could reach them, a blur of grey burst past him. “Enough!”, Boulderfur screeched, “I won’t let anyone else get hurt because of me. It’s my fault that thestoats attacked everyone.”.

Grinding his paws into the dust until he came to a shaky halt, Crowfeather stared at Boulderfur. His voice carried too much conviction to be an innocent warrior who simply deluded himself. Instead of suggesting an unlucky hunting spot, Boulderfur had committed something far darker and deliberate. “You can’t be serious.”, Crowfeather gasped. For a short time, he thought they were bonding from their mutual understanding over Breezepelt. How wrong that turned out to be. The usual hustle of Windclan froze stiff at the confession. Before an impulsive cat could attack the pale tom, Onestar barricaded him into a corner of dense shrubbery. There was nowhere to run. Yet Boulderfur didn’t seem like he intended to.

“It’s your fault?”, Onestar echoed, his tone eerily quiet. Interrupting Boulderfur’s chance to reply, Weaslefur snapped back in disbelief, “For Starclan’s sake, Boulderfur! Like you’d do anything like that. Enough with the self-pity. It must have been an accident, you couldn’t of known-”

Hissing to silence him, Boulderfur’s muscles tightened with stress, “Let me speak for myself!”, he uttered, “That’s only a half-truth. The Training party risking their lives wasn’t my intention, but for Breezepelt - It definitely was.”. Immediately, cries of shock and confusion rang around the sandy hollow. Queens guided their kits in the Nursery and apprentices ducked behind their mentors. A cold numbness swept through Crowfeather like a bitter Leafbare wild. Out of all his clanmates, Boulderfur had been the last he’d expected to lash out so quickly. Breezepelt’s own apprentice. Yet in a twisted way, that might have given him the strongest motive of all.

Staggering back from the attempted killer, Weaselfur joined the wide circle forming, a wall of bristling fur and extended claws. Sweeping his gaze around those who accused Breezepelt, Crowfeather expected hints of sick delight. After all, someone had done their dirty work by attempting to rid Windclan of the controversial warrior. Surprisingly, the only emotion present was shock. He knew it. The pathetic group was all bark and no bite.

“I should have known it wasn’t a mistake!”, Breezepelt barked, “That foxheart knocked me into the burrow!”. Reflecting on the crime scene - It made too much sense. The whole structure had solely been supported by that withered tree’s roots. A cat could easily dig them up and send the burrow’s ceiling crumbling down. Then if the rockslide hadn't killed the victim, the stoats would finished them off. Though what Boulderfur hadn't been aware of until it too late, was the underground training session that could have attampted to save Breezepelt. Because of that small detail, so many more lives wouldn't of been endangered. But it was still Boulderfur's fault for messing with forces beyond his control. 

Puffing out his chest, Onestar made an effort to tower over the younger cat, “So you tried to kill Breezepelt? That’s what you’re saying? Why? What could you possibly be thinking?”.

Shrinking further down to the ground, Boulderfur struggled not to stumble over his words, “I-I wanted to keep Windclan safe.”.

Lifting his chin, Onestar did seem the least convinced by the excuse, “As Leader, I’ve already allowed the Trainees to retake their oaths of loyalty. By becoming an executioner against my orders, you’ve disrespected the entity of Windclan.”, he announced for all to hear.

He paused, expecting all of Windclan to voice their agreement. Embarrassingly, there were only serval half-hearted yowls. Usually, the prideful Windclan would be on the verge of rioting after hearing their Clanmates tried to kill each other. Though since Boulderfurt’s motives had become clear, everyone wasn’t so eager to cry bloody murder - His victim wasn’t held in high regards after all.

Crowfeather kept his jaw sealed shut, not ready to demand anything yet. Perhaps it was wrong, but he needed to hear out both sides first, including his son’s attempted murderer. A wave of shame swept through him as Nightcloud gave her former mate a furious glance, before turning to confront Boulderfur and Onestar, “Don’t pretend Boulderfur any better than he truly is!”, she spat, “A cold-blooded murderer, simple as - And he should be punished as such!”.

As a while, Breezepelt nodded along to everything spoken by his mother. Unafraid of the protective Nightcloud, Leaftail shook his ginger head, “Even you have admit Breezepelt’s crimes can be ignored either.”. Together, Breezepelt’s and Nightcloud’s lips twitched upwards in response.

The black she-cat went nose to nose with Leaftail, “My son’s lapse in judgement has nothing to do with this. Leave him alone.”. Moving away from him with a snort of disgust, Nightcloud swept her tail over Breezepelt to keep him close. Arching her ears towards the Camp entrance, she chided to Onestar, “You made a mistake by appointing this cat as Breezepelt’s apprentice, Onestar. So make up for it by getting Boulderfur out of my sight”. They began to weave through the unruly mass, retreating to the Medicine cat den. Expecting once they exited again, Boulderfur would be long gone.

Crowfeather was unsure if he should be impressed or not. With Breezepelt’s supporters so outnumbered, some assertiveness was necessary. Though not to the point of Nightcloud shutting down Boulderfur’s right to defend himself. It would only make Breezepelt appear worse!

Suddenly, Boulderfur jerked forward in anger, forcing Onestar to hold him back, “Don’t walk away from this, Breezepelt! I’m not afraid of you. You won’t get away with your lies anymore.” Questioning expressions spread across the camp as fast as Greencough. Despite the two black cats efforts to ignore him, rows of warriors shuffled to block the Medicine den entrance. Even, the fellow trainee, Harespring among them. The deputy dipped his head, “I can’t allow you to leave just yet.”.

Breezepelt angrily stomped his paws like a moaning kit, “Let me through, foxhearts.”. Flexing his claws deep into the soft earth, Crowfeather prepared for the worst from Boulderfur’s tale. Were the salvageable parts of his scattered family about to be broken forever? If Breezepelt had targeted a second member of his Thunderclan kin, Crowfeather would disown him there and then. “You better not be lying.”, Crowfeather warned in a low growl at the pale tom, serval fox-lengths away. Boulderfur didn’t meet his eye contact, “None of my crimes would of happened without it, Crowfeather.”.

Strangely irritated, Onestar whispered hushed words into Boulderfur’s ear. Though the young tom flinched away, shaking his head. Why would Onestar be secretive during a trial? Crowfeather thought suspiciously. He couldn’t linger on the thought as Breezepelt marched to the front, definitely standing his ground. Lashing his tail, the black warrior scoffed, “This is a pitiful attempt to delay your own punishment, Boulderfur. Whatever foxdung spews out of your mouth, will mean nothing. I have nothing to hide.”.

Boulderfur narrowed his eyes to slits, “It won’t be so meaningless, when I’m not the only one exposing your secrets - Onestar?”. Unexpectedly, the brown leader had nothing to say in response, only shuddering. His mate, Whitetail approached him, tail twitching with concern, “What he is talking about, dear?”.

Boulderfur took a wary step forwards him, “Please- There’s no point to covering for him anymore. None of the other Clans will consider it weak to punish him.”. Considering Boulderfur had ratted himself out, it seemed unlikely he was lying. Ever since Mudclaw’s rebellion against him, Onestar had been paranoid to keep up Windclan’s reputation. Yet Crowfeather didn’t think he might stoop to being a lying weasel. Don’t make me regret supporting you in the Civil war all those seasons ago!

The rest of the Clan was equally unsettled, Crouchfoot yowled out, “You’re an attempted murderer! You have no right to accuse our leader.” Shrinking in his pelt, Boulderfur withdrew under the judging presence of his Clanmates. All their patience was wavering thin. Still think killing Breezepelt was a good idea, featherbrain? Crowfeather wanted to utter aloud, though couldn’t risk making the situation worse.

Swallowing hard, Boulderfur bucked up the courage to carry on, “Why it so surprising when he’s already done it?”, he questioned, “There are five Windclan cats who trained in the Dark Forest. So why did Onestar only present Breezepelt to other Three Leaders?”. Despite deciding the fate of all the trainees, Onestar had insisted only one’s presence was necessary at that special gathering. Everyone was aware of the questionable claim, but it wasn’t until Boulderfur, anyone questioned it openly. Why would they? This was Starclan’s chosen leader after all.

Isolated rest of the Meeting, the Trainees gathered in the shelter of an overhanging gorse bush. With rare courage, Whiskernose slithered out from the safety of his fellow trainees, “All us trainees swore the oath in the end. How is Breezepelt different?”. Surely it was Breezepelt trying to kill Lionblaze? Unlike Crowfeather, his Clanmates remained complexed at Whiskernose’s question. Did they seriously not count his son because he was Thunderclan?

Before Crowfeather could dig into them for their ignorance, Boulderfur gave crushing evidence of his own, “Because Onestar didn’t want to run the risk. If a witness had exposed Onestar was attempting to cover for a traitor, Windclan’s reputation would have been ruined. Which is even more strange – Considering it was his own attacker.”

Instantly, whales of protests rang through the night sky. Please not another crime, Crowfeather begged in his head. Swinging his head in all directions, Breezepelt searched for anyone who might try to bite his head off.

Unfortunately, Boulderfur still wasn’t finished laying waste to his mentor, “I can longer remain silent for you, Onestar. Windclan deserves to know the truth. During the first assault on this camp, I witnessed Breezepelt running within the ranks of the Dark Forest cats. He then reared up above Onestar, before Ivypool shoved him away. She asked how he could possibly think this was the right thing. And Breezepelt responded this is what he’d been training to do – To Kill his own clanmates.”

Surprisingly, instead of Onestar speaking up, it was his Deputy. Boulderfur’s claimed had unturned a hive’s nest, blazing out of control. Anger seethed under Harespring’s words like a boiling puddle in the sun, “That's not the only thing. Breezepelt was present when Hawkfrost swore to kill the defecting trainees. And what did he do? Left us all for dead!”

Swiftly, Larkwing leapt at opportunity Harespring had provided her, “He praised the Dark Forest right after Beetlewhisker’s murder! And even ordered us to remain silent about Antpelt’s!”.

It all swirled down for Breezepelt in a heartbeat. Never before had he’d been so isolated, as everyone kept their careful distance. Ironically, it seemed the Trainees had been the group he’d hurt the most. Even Nightcloud struggled to remain close, no longer protecting him with her own body, merely pacing around him. It seemed the original trial of Boulderfur’s murder attempt had been forgotten. Eerily calm, he silently watched his prey. Perhaps he considered this better than killing him. Unwanted familiarity came over Crowfeather. Imagining he was back at that fateful Gathering, trembling under the piercing judgement of Hollyleaf. Had they both deserved to be humiliation?

Almost on the verge of slashing someone, Nightcloud hissed fiercely like a tigerclan warrior, “I refuse to believe this. You’re all liars trying to make yourselves look better!”. Crowfeather wanted that to be true as much as her, but the denial wasn’t the answer! The trainees flattened their ears in offence. This seemed the perfect time for Onestar to keep the peace. Why he remained wordless for so long, was beyond Crowfeather’s guess. What was he waiting for? Did he expect Starclan to ascend down from the skies to sort this mess out for him?

Calmly, the brown tabby weaved among the sea of his warriors, observing each individual, “Those are intriguing tales. But at the end of the day, all of you are either murderers or traitors. Do you have any more credible witnesses?”, he questioned bluntly. It was Onestar who declared the trainees were trustworthy in the first place. But now they weren’t grovelling to him, he went to the traitor label!

“Hypocrite!”, Crowfeather spat in the background, luckily falling on deaf ears. “B-Boulderfur right.”, a meek Oatpaw called out, pressing close to his mentor, Leaftail, “I saw Breezepelt attacking Onestar too. It wasn’t long after he left Windclan camp, chasing after Crowfeather.”.

Dipping his head grateful to the young apprentice, Boulderfur went nose to nose with the leader, “Breezepelt’s true nature has been laid out for you, Onestar. What do you plan to do now?”.

Windclan held its breath as it waited for the final verdict. For the special occasion, the leader finally leapt onto his rightful place on the tallrock. What they didn’t expect, was Onestar’s amused chuckles, “It was a clever move on your part, Boulderfur. I’ll give you that. Trying to sway attention from your own crime. However - The only thing achieved tonight was discovering more details on known actions. Ultimately, it changes nothing.”

He took a pause, knowing what came next would cause an outcry, “What I said about Breezepelt still holds true. He’s never harmed a Windclan cat. He may have leapt at me, but Ivypool stopped him. He may have covered for the Dark Forest, but no cats died under his orders. There is no need to punish him.”.

Even those who’d tried being neutral towards Breezepelt in the past, couldn’t accept Onestar’s decision with the new revelation. “Don’t be ridiculous!”, Emberfoot yelled out. Crowfeather stood there like a frozen rock, strangely hollow. As Breezepelt’s father, shouldn’t he be relieved by Onestar’s choice? Obviously, he wasn’t craving his son to get punished like certain self-righteous hairballs. Yet it still felt wrong for him to get away with it as well.

Boulderfur’s shoulders become rigid with frustration, while Breezepelt’s fear faded, replaced with a sneer. Honestly, Crowfeather didn’t have the energy to feel shocked anymore. Only disappointment remained. It had peaked with his sons trying to kill each other. Nothing could go beyond that. He couldn’t get himself to hate Boulderfur. Just the latest fool trying to pass off personal revenge as justice. At least he was young, so perhaps it wasn’t too late. If he’d been Crowstar, he’d strip Boulderfur of his warrior name and shove him back into the apprentice’s den.

“So what’s your grand plan with Boulderfur?”, Leaftail grumbled to Onestar, “How would it be fair to treat him harsher than the trainees?”.

“They didn’t indirectly get two patrols attacked by stoats.”, Crowfeather replied dryly, wanting to get this over with.

Onestar flicked his tail dismissively to both arguments, “The perfect solution already exists. It’s only fitting for Boulderfur to swear the same oath the trainees did a moon ago. The same one you so arrogantly thought you were above.”. That scapegoat again? Even Crowfeather thought it was an ineffective method. There were other options outside of exile like apprentice duties and extra training. But repeating a few words was the best the four Leaders could come up with? After the ceremony, the Offender had no supervision to prevent them from committing more crimes.

By now, Boulderfur had been herded towards Tallstone, stressfully pacing its base like a trapped rabbit. Despite being the one being sentenced, Boulderfur had the same idea as Crowfeather, “First the Trainees and now me? When does the cycle end, Onestar? How long is Windclan going to let those dangerous cats run free? What about the safety of the innocent? A few words won’t stop a murderer. I refuse to let this pathetic excuse for a justice system become the norm!”

Charging forward, Breezepelt shoved his snarling teeth into Boulderfur’s face, “I don’t care what you’re trying to do, Boulderfur. You won’t be worming out of this. Now grovel, like the rest of us did! That’s an order from your mentor!”. His black paw hovered in the air, dangerously close to his apprentice’s neck. The bristles on Crowfeather’s neck began to rise. Getting into a tussle could only end badly!

Though Boulderfur ignored the black warrior, dodging past to call out to Onestar perched high above, “Why would you let me stay in Windclan? I’m the reason your daughter lays dying!”. In union, Windclan flinched at the personal blow. For once Onestar’s cool persona cracked, visible anger creeping out of his body. Yet, he wasn’t the only one triggered, as Breezepelt crashed into Boulderfur's flank. You idiot, not in the middle of Camp! 

Taking him off guard, the black warrior tried overwhelming his apprentice as he clumsily stumbled, with a waves of front swipes. As a third blow went for Boulderfur's face, he managed to get his footing. Narrowly missing, Boulderfur countered with a hard cuff over the ear, claws sheathed. Lunging backwards, Boulderfur rolled away, yet Breezepelt gave chase. The closest cat to them, Furzepelt went for a low kick, trying to trip Breezepelt.

Nimbly sidestepping the interception, Breezepelt carried on after his target. That skill could have only be learnt in the Dark forest. Landing heavily on Boulderfur's back, both toms' backs scrapped against the gritty earth. The Clan meeting was forced apart, to keep away from the whirlwind of screeching fur. Numerous paws tried reaching out to grab them, yet swiftly recoiled. Any effort to do so, were almost caught in the crossfire of slashing teeth and claws. 

Breezepelt struggled to dig his claws in, as Boulderfur kept darting in the opposite direction, avoiding his grasp. Having enough, Breezepelt reared onto his hindlegs, using the extra height clasp Boulderfur's neck from above. Forced onto his back, his belly was exposed, the black tom lunging in for a second attack. Outstretching all four legs, the pale warrior managed to make a barrier, jabbing his opponent in the chest, collapsing in a winded heap. Before Boulderfur could scramble away, Breezepelt recovered, biting into his lagging tail.

Dragged towards him, Breezepelt hurriedly placed his paws on Boulderfur’s chest, pinning him down. Heavily panting, their pelts were scruffy with dust and blood. Spectators tightened the circle around the battlefield, mindful of whether it was safe to pull them apart yet. On top of Tallrock, Onestar remained locked and loaded to spring down himself at any heartbeat. Gradually, he lifted his tail, about to give the order to separate them. Suddenly, Breezepelt’s head struck forward like a snake - biting down into Boulderfur's throat. Unnatural gargling noises came out instead of a proper scream. If this went further, Boulderfur could die! 

Instantly, Crowfeather closed the gap faster then he’d known possible. Wrapping his paws round Breezepelt’s shoulders, he hauled his kit away like fresh-kill. Made ever difficult as he furiously thrashed out. Then Crouchfoot was beside him, taking Breezepelt’s scruff. Together, they used all their weight to slam him to the ground. “Why did you have to make this difficult?”, Crowfeather hissed into his ear.

Still trying to wriggle free, Breezepelt growled, “Why are you defending him? Heathertail is your apprentice. He deserves it!”.

Great starclan, does he understand what he’s done? All the toxic venom spitting from his tongue could seal his fate even further. Rapidly glancing round, Crowfeather warily wondered if anyone had overheard. Desperately, the father tried to get his son to understand before it was too late, “Perhaps he does. But it’s not our decision to make. I’m not defending Boulderfur, I’m protecting you from getting yourself driven out.”

A fox-length away, Boulderfur groggily stood up, roughly nudged up by his clanmates. Wincing in pain and blindly staggering back, as snapping jaws went for him. The whole trial was threatening to dissolve into a rampage, as Windclan cats wildly buzzed around like lost bees. Among the spinning rows, Weaselfur and Leaftail tried edging towards Breezepelt with claws extended. Shuffling round to still keep his son subdued, Crowfeather signalled to a dazed Nightcloud. The former queen snapped out of her dim haze, for once understanding her mate’s message.  
Arching her back, Nightcloud lunged ahead of them, “There’s nothing left to be done here, so clear off!”.

Louder than a thunderstorm, Onestar’s furious order could have woken the dead, “Control yourselves!”. A majority of the flustered crowd retreated to the Camp’s edges. Only a handful remained next to the offenders' . Calmed down, Crowfeather and Crouchfoot allowed Breezepelt into a sitting position. Rasping her tongue over her kit, a frantic Nightcloud could barely control her speech, “Oh, Breezepelt. Please- No more.”.

Meanwhile, Boulderfur remained hunched over, leaning into his sister’s, Furzepelt’s flank. It was ironic. He swore to be the opposite of his trainee littermate, yet ended making a similar mistake. Wiping a blood streak from his nose, Boulderfur’s unwelcome speech continued, “Maybe my point is proven now, Onestar?” Crouched on the rocky ledge, Onestar bit his lip, unimpressed. The attempted murderer carried on, “If you banish Breezepelt as well tonight, I promise I will never step foot on Windclan’s moors again.”.

To the family of three, Boulderfur’s proposal was a blunt no. Though the rest of Windclan was not bounded to Breezepelt by blood, unblinded by such bias. They were hesitant to share their true feelings, only muttering in hushed whispers. Though the general consensus was rising to the surface. The resentful Onestar got the message loud and clear.

Sighing, Onestar gave his choice, “I have done my best to move Windclan past the tragedy of the Great Battle. Trainees and Warriors alike. However, it's clear you all can’t let go of the past. If this is the only way, then so be it.” He swept his amber gaze over the soon-to-be rogues, standing almost alone at the centre of camp.

Against his shoulder, Crowfeather could feel Breezepelt’s bones quivering. Was it anger or fear? Nightcloud held her kit tightly, harbouring the last opportunities to be in her son’s presence. Suffering through the pain of birth, only to bring one living cat into the world. And she was about to lose that as well. It was the opposite on Boulderfur’s side. While Furzepelt couldn’t stop shaking, her brother remained grimly emotionless. He’d already accepted his destiny long ago. So why did he have to drag down Breezepelt with him?

Onestar named them in turn, “Breezepelt - Boulderfur - The will of Windclan is clear. It’s such an overwhelming majority, even as a leader, I can not ignore it. Though this is not my own choice, I must fulfil it. It’s been deemed necessary for you to leave. You have until next sunrise to reach the border. Afterwards, unless with proper reasoning, you’ll be escorted off Windclan territory. Though even as rogues, I hope Starclan lights your path.”

Poised in a hunting crouch, Breezepelt seemed ready to slaughter more prey. For once, he controlled his own actions, straightening up. Knowing if he kept going, it could end in his death. Though his and Nightcloud’s hate-filled expressions never left Boulderfur. The unmoving atmosphere lingered for too long, an impatient Windclan staggering around. A terrible dread hangover Crowfeather. They were forming a defensive line. If the exiles didn’t leave themselves, they’d be driven out with the full force of a battle patrol.

“Breezepelt- You can’t stay here.”, Crowfeather warned, subtly pushing him towards the Gorse tunnel. A sharp sting spread behind his ear. Unnerved as Nightcloud’s hot breathing passed through his whispers, “You could have stopped this.”, she hissed, not giving Crowfeather time to process her words, rushing after Breezepelt. He acknowledged his failings as a father. But Nightcloud had to admit, only a mind reader could have seen the true depth of Breezepelt’s cruel intent.

“I will not abandon my son. I refuse to be apart of Windclan if he’s not by my side.”, Nightcloud announced abruptly. Unwilling to lose both of them in one night, Crowfeather dashed towards her. “I can’t let you do that!”, he begged unintentionally loudly, “I know you want to protect him. But there’s a better way. I promise.”.

Hopelessly, his blue gaze flickered up to Breezepelt, lurking in the shade of the tangling gorse tunnel. In the gloom, the black tom appeared like a young kit pining for their mother’s attention. His only chance, Crowfeather mouthed a silent message to Breezepelt, ‘Don’t do this to your mother.’.

Taking a massive strain to pull through, Breezepelt rasped, “It’s best you stay put, for now, Mother. I won’t be far from Windclan’s moors.”. At last, Nightcloud seemed to understand, bowing her head. There was more his parents could do for Breezepelt, within the walls of Windclan, then outside of it. Until his clanmates’ opinions were swayed, he'd always be an enemy, no matter how many times he crawled back.

“Then I won’t rest until you’re back with us.”, she swore, sharing a final embrace before the mother and son had to separate. Not allowing himself to be awkward at that moment, Crowfeather placed his muzzle on Breezepelt’s forehead, “You’ll be back with us soon. But until then - Keep your wits about you.”, he advised, “And don’t kill Boulderfur. His death isn’t worth your home.”.

“If that’s the stakes, then fine. But he should have the sense to stay out of my way.”, Breezepelt mewed, Nightcloud grunting her agreement. Another emotional scene was unfolding a short distance away. “What were you thinking?”, Furzepelt exclaimed, jabbing her Brother’s flank for answers. A lump grew in Boulderfur’s throat, almost choking out his reply, “I’m sorry - It was necessary.”

“None of this was necessary. We’re barely more than apprentices, so don’t pretend like you know better!”, she argued. Failing to hold her distress, Furzepelt span on her heel, retreating to the clusters of her fellow trainees. A mixture of regret and relief scent drifted from the small group. Did they consider it fair for Breezepelt to be banished, while they remained?

Then, Boulderfur pitifully tried sneaking past Breezepelt’s family without notice. Shoving his face into the pale warrior’s, Crowfeather only had one question, “Are you proud of yourself?”. Boulderfur staggered back under the taller tom’s presence, “O-of course not.”, he muttered.

“Good. Don’t let that change.”, Crowfeather mewed, looming above him as he took the last paces towards the Camp entrance. The senior warrior didn’t usually delight in intimidating others, but Boulderfur was the exception. The apprentice and mentor turned attempted murderers didn’t even acknowledge each other. There was nothing left to do.

Too soon, Breezepelt gave his parting message to Windclan, “I’ll prove you all wrong - You can count on that!”. His lean frame faded into the gorse tunnel like a shadow. Soon followed by Boulderfur, making sure to stay far back.

Reality crashed down on Nightcloud like a rockslide, crumbling to the floor, crying out. The former Queen crawled round to face her scattered clanmates like a snake, “What kind of Trial punishes the victim? You should all be ashamed!”. Feebly, Crowfeather laid his tail across the grieving mother’s shoulders. Privately, he knew he was more emotionally prepared for Breezepelt’s banishment then he cared to admit. Ever since Lionblaze’s attempted murder, he’d always accepted the possibility.

Wedged between in a boulder, Crowfeather’s attention was drawn towards the Medicine cat den. Poor Heathertail. Her life-long friend gone and she wasn’t even conscious for it.


	3. Chapter 3

Windclan had never seemed so united and divided at the same time. Even with dark secrets laid bare and codebreakers went, any feelings of satisfaction struggled to arise. With Onestar sentencing both Boulderfur and Breezepelt, no one could claim victory. Those who opposed the Trainees could no longer boost moral superiority. Boulderfur's extreme methods had exposed the ugly side of their ideology. Not only that, but an unwanted truth had come to light that some trainees were victims themselves - Antpelt and Beetlewhisker paying the ultimate price.

Windclan cats mindlessly drifted around the sandy hollow. Then among this sea of confusion, were select individuals whose minds had gone completely blank. Huddled in the Medicine den, all Onestar and Whitetail could do was stand over their unmoving daughter. Since Boulderfur had cruelly reminded them of her state, they couldn't think of anything else. It has been a tactical move on Boulderfur's part, inclining Onestar to discontinue the retaking of oaths. All in the name of justice or some foxdang.

In the far corner of the Medicine cat den, was another of Boulderfur's victims - Nightcloud grieving for the exile of her son. The poppy seeds were the only thing stopping her throat being worn raw from her whaling. Kestrilflight had offered Crowfeather herbs as well, but he'd refused. Unlike his old mate, he couldn't afford to sleep, having too much on his mind. Twilight had seeped into every root and sand grain, staining the Landscape in dark purple. Gazing into the endless gloom of the night, Crowfeather wandered where Breezepelt was among it. Since the exile had happened at sunset, he couldn't be far.

It was hard to grasp, but what Crowfeather decided to do in this short time, would be life-changing. To either track Breezepelt down or leave him to become a permanent rogue.

Then the burning question came up. Was Windclan better off with Breezepelt in exile?

There were too many perspectives to consider. For security, it made sense to keep a murderous cat out of camp, away from Windclan's most vulnerable. Yet at the same time, Breezepelt would have no supervision as a rogue. He'd be free to gather resources outside the borders to do Starclan's knows what. Making him leave didn't solve the issue - He'd just become someone else's issue. Many outsiders didn't have training like Clan cats, meaning they'd have little defence against the angry tom. Especially when Breezepelt's distrain for none-clan borns was so bluntly obvious. Spending time as a rogue could be a humbling experience, but Crowfeather didn't want to risk it.

After all, his family still had unfinished business with him in the Clans. Crowfeather didn't want to deprive his Thunderclan kits of getting closure. If someone had tried to kill him, he'd want to give them a piece of his mind before they sent away forever. Lionblaze could be enraged after discovering Breezepelt was sentenced without him even being present. The same went for Heathertail as well. The she-cat had placed her reputation on the line to defend Breezepelt from the endless criticism. Yet Windclan didn't bother waiting for her to wake up before exiling her old friend.

Even with the cold question of usefulness, Breezepelt still had much to offer Windclan. He was a young warrior who could serve them for seasons, providing prey and possibly kits. Then his fighting skills were undeniable. The earlier stoat attacks have proven he'd use those skills to defend his Clanmates. Even risking his life for Heathertail, refusing to leave her in the tunnels. He has loved ones he'd die for, that had to prove his potential. Despite being forgiven by Onestar under false pretences, it didn't change that he used the opportunity to improve. Putting more consideration into his actions, constantly holding his tongue and keeping in his claws. Since he'd been allowed to atone for worse crimes - Why was Boulderfur's assault the one that got him exiled? Giving the victim the same sentence as their murderer was just cruel! Lots of cats would have lost their temper in that situation!

Breezepelt never had the chance to prove himself. Not truly. There had always been outside forces provoking him, first the Dark Forest and now Boulderfur. The Black tom had wanted to better himself and the arrogant Windclan listened to his attempted murderer over him! That was it. Breezepelt would return for a Fair Trial - Without Manipulative murderers surrounding him. Only then, could he be judged by his own convictions, no one else's.

Crowfeather rose his muzzle towards the camp entrance, determination spreading through his veins. It was decided, he'd track down Breezepelt and give him a final chance. If the unruly warrior decided to spit at the opportunity, so be it, but at least he was given the choice. As he took his first step towards the entrance, Harespring's voice stopped him, "Is leaving a good idea?". A rush of embarrassment heated Crowfeather's pelt. After a moment's thought, he realized how impulsive he appeared, caught up in his fantasy. But that didn't stop Crowfeather turning towards the deputy with a scowl, "So I'm a prisoner in my own home? Can't a cat go into the moors without being questioned by a nosy rabbit?".

Narrowing his eyes, Harespring shook his head, "It's not nosiness, Crowfeather. As deputy, I want to make sure my clanmates are alright. Bringing Breezepelt back won't change Windclan's mind. If he's caught trespassing, someone might get hurt.". The senior warrior's ear twitched thoughtfully. With the recent events, Crowfeather had to be more respectful and now he could tell Harespring didn't deserve his harsh words. Was it his jealousy of not being chosen as deputy? Shaking his head, Crowfeather refocused on the main topic. With far more pressing matters, there wasn't time to have a heart to heart with Harespring.

"It's not like I'd be dragging him over the border. Right now, I just want to know where my son is. I'll deal with changing our clanmates' minds later.", Crowfeather muttered, passing a sighing Harespring. The deputy didn't attempt to stop him as he shouldered his way through the prickly bush into the outside moor. The grass blades had become frosty with the chilling night air, sharpening like fangs. From the top of a tree stump, Crowfeather could see every border and beyond. Swallowing hard as the vastness of the landscapes dawned on him. If he didn't have Breezepelt's fresh scent trail, Crowfeather would be completely lost on how to find him in those massive territories. The Great journey had taught him the world was larger than any Clan cat could imagine.

Leaping down onto a weedy path, the grey tom stuck his nose to the earth, beginning the trek to Breezepelt. Fur bristling as he smelt Boulderfur's scent interwoven with his mentor's. Surely he'd be smart enough to keep away? He'd already gotten them both exiled, there was nothing left to gain by stalking Breezepelt. Thankfully, Boulderfur's trail seemed to veer off to the other side of the hills before long. "And stay out.", Crowfeather growled under his breath.

Then, among the tangling ferns and brambles, twigs cracked as a paw stepped on them. With his sharpened hunter's ears, he could already tell the creature was too heavy to be regular prey. A familiar scent meets his nose and Crowfeather called out to his bouncy apprentice, "Nice try, Featherpaw but I won't be outdone that easily.". The silver tabby slid out from the brown shrubbery like a snake, shaking her pelt of the crispy leaves. She puffed out her chest indignantly, "I wasn't going to pounce on you - I was only approaching."

Normally, Crowfeather would tease her for being a poor liar, but at this critical time, they couldn't waste time on such trivial matters. Especially when Featherpaw was still vulnerable, she grazed shoulder patched up with herbs. "Do you think going out of camp injured is a smart move?", he lectured, "You'd better have a good excuse."

Lowering her head, Featherpaw's high voice became quiet, "You're going to find Breezepelt, ain't you? I thought you wouldn't want to do it alone.". The mentor wasn't sure if he should be impressed or disappointed - That Featherpaw made sure he was supported in this emotional situation, but at the expense of her own safety. Since she already out here, she might well accompany him.

Sighing, Crowfeather laid his tail across her shoulder, "Sometimes I wonder if you're too kind for your own good. But thank you anyway, really. Though if you're coming with me, you can't wander from my sight.".

"Don't put yourself down, Crowfeather, you're kind too, whatever the others say about you. You're doing it right now - Searching for your son because you care about him.", Featherpaw boasted, flickering her fluffy tail in the air. Only replying with a nod, the statement sent Crowfeather swirling down into deep thought. Was he doing this out of genuine concern for his wayward kit or savaging his own broken reputation? How much faith should be put into Breezepelt? Would Crowfeather's skepticism alienate him further or would Nightcloud's leniency give him another chance to hurt cats? 

Eagerly bouncing alongside him, he and Featherpaw continued following Breezepelt's scent marks in an uneasy silence. Not so long ago, Boulderfur and Breezepelt would of been like this, a typical apprentice and mentor. When had it gone so wrong? Was the reveal of his mentor's true nature alone enough to turn him murderous? There was apart of Crowfeather who would always blame himself for Breezepelt's betrayal. Maybe he played a slight role in Boulderfur's downfall as well, as Breezepelt had to unleash his anger with his father onto someone else. 

At the first Gathering after the Great Battle, Crowfeather had heard whispers on numerous cats needing to put down their Dark Forest kin. There was only a heartbeat so spare before Breezepelt had finished his killing bite on Lionblaze. If he'd been too late, would Crowfeather have chosen to get revenge? Could he vow he was better than Boulderfur? Sighing, he admitted he'd never know. Time could never to be reversed, no matter how much he wished for it. 

Soon, they were heading off to a small cluster of trees. Thanks to the large boulder embedded in the ground, Crowfeather could recall this was Breezepelt's favourite place to practice climbing as an apprentice. Honestly, Crowfeather rarely came here on patrols, let alone to watch Breezepaw training here with his denmates. Another reminder of the fault he played in creating the murderous rogue.

Strangely, Breezepelt's scent marks were fresh, suggesting he was close by. He was still within Windclan's borders! If he didn't leave soon, he could get his ears raked off. Quickening his pace to warn the featherbrain, Crowfeather descended down a rock pile, flakes of grit coming loose under his claws. Sudden angry yowling in the distance made him go even faster. Keeping close to his side, Featherpaw's whiskers twitched with nerves.

Tasting the air, Crowfeater was unable to scent any cats other than the three of them. So who was Breezepelt shouting at? Focusing his hearing, he could make out the faintest sound of claws scraping against the bark. He wasn't fighting anyone, he was having a tantrum!

Guiltily turning to Featherpaw, Crowfeather swept his tail over nearby undergrowth, "Hide in the bushes and keep alert for any threats.", he muttered, "You should stay out of this.".

The silver apprentice stared at him for a heartbeat too long, uttering what he didn't want to hear, "Are you scared of your own son?". It would be foolish not to! It was easy to assume someone capable of killing his brother could turn against his father as well. Yet no matter how contradictory it felt, Crowfeather couldn't judge Breezepelt too much. As judgement was the very factor that led him down that path in the first place. What the black tom needed was understanding. It was their only hope for a second chance.

Going down the twisting path which leads to the source of the yelling, Crowfeather gave his parting words to Featherpaw, "I know not to underestimate him.". Dipping her head, his apprentice crouched among the brown stems, withered by the choke of leafbare. Comfort she was well hidden, Crowfeather broke into a run. The thin trees reached high above the Windclan warrior, the branches trying to claw at the night air. Large clouds consumed the clear sky, blocking any guiding light of silverpelt. The strong drafts bellowed as the moors themselves were warning him to stay away, yet he pressed on.

Ferns brushing against both flanks, Crowfeather stalked closer to woodland's center. The space between the tree trunks widens out to create a small clearing, allowing moonlight to slip through the cracks in the canopy. Almost silver in the harsh glow, Breezeplt shredded a stick under his paws, reduced to splinters. It seemed to be Breezepelt's attempt to find a third target, with two stoats carelessly sprawled around, savagely mauled to bloody pulps. At least he wasn't taking it out on Boulderfur.

But that optimism struggled to linger as the whole picture of Breezepelt's rampage became clear. The leafy floor had been wrecked, including the stoats, like the bodies left on a battlefield. The trees were scorched with claw marks, running deep enough to leak sap. Still concealed within the shrubbery, Crowfeather considered his options. If he revealed himself, he could be giving Breezepelt living prey to vent his burning rage onto. No. It would be pointless to go back now.

Swallowing hard, Crowfeather stepped out from the darker shadows. Instinctively, Breezepelt span around aggressively to face the trespasser. For a breathless moment, Crowfeather swore he'd pounce on him. Thankfully, the bristles on Breezepelt's back lay flat after revealing who it was. On closer inspection, Breezepelt's chipped claws were so worn, they were on the verge of falling off. Doesn't he realise he'll need them to survive?

Breezepelt blinked slowly at him, "Oh…", he muttered, "Well, it's about time you made an effect.".

In the past, Crowfeather would have denied it. Though the moons of guilt had crept up on him and there was no more room for lies. Biting back his pride, Crowfeather quietly admitted it, "I wish I'd done it sooner." For some reason, Breezepelt wasn't engaged, idly searching for something else.

"Is Nightcloud with you?", he asked hopefully.

The answer would make the emotional wreck of a cat worse but Crowfeather didn't have a way around. "She's on poppy seeds back at the Medicine Den. Your exile is taking a toll on her.", he explained.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Breezepelt paced the narrow woodland clearing. He halted again, giving his father a disgusted look, "Then why did you stop her leaving with me? You don't make decisions for her! It's cruel to keep a Queen away from her kit. The only one who ever cared about me…"

How ungrateful could he get, Crowfeather thought. Most families would have disowned him long ago. Yet he still wanted his innocent mother to suffer the same punishment he rightfully earned. Old bitterness flickering up from inside him, Crowfeather flared his nostrils, "You're not a kit, Breezepelt! Think of the consequences for once! Dragging an innocent cat into exile will make Windclan hate you more. Don't you want to be reaccepted?".

Alarmingly, it had descended into their typical arguments. Keep calm, Keep calm- Crowfeather repeated to himself. Eyes flashing with confusion, Breezepelt's thoughts were almost visible, desperately sorting through his two opinions; Remain as a rogue with his mother or return to Windclan with an uncertain future. Unexpectedly, he was reminded of himself as a young warrior, deciding to leave with Leafpool or not. Yet Breezepelt's response didn't help matters, "Why are you making me decide now? Those judgemental foxhearts won't change overnight! Why should I bother returning if they don't appreciate my efforts? Come back when you've made some progression with them.".

Nobody would blame Crowfeather if he wandering off then and there. Yet he remained stubbornly in a place like an unmoving tree against a storm. He'd come too far to give up now. Either he'd make Breezepelt take some responsibility or he'd chase him out of Windclan territory. "I'm not going to let this descent into bickering. But those are the facts, Breezepelt: Once you cross the borders, the chance I'm giving you might not come again. So take it or leave it. But as a grown warrior, you have to put in the work to redeem yourself. No one else.".

His next comment was probably too harsh, but if it was necessary to throw reality into Breezepelt's face, then so be it. Crowfeather narrowed his eyes, "Are you going to abandon Nightcloud and Heathertail?". A shudder spread over Breezepelt's back. Sadly, his first sign of regret had been for his loved ones, but none of his victims. Hopefully, that could come sooner.

In disbelief he could be accused of that, Breezepelt furiously shook his head, "How could you think that? Fine! I'll try, only for their sake, no one else."

Knowing it was the best answer he'd get, Crowfeather tried lightning to the mood slightly, "I'm sure when Heathertail wakes up and finds you gone, she'll be furious. You're lucky to have that.".

Longfully gazing out to the distant fields with Windclan camp at their centre, Breezepelt reflected on old memories. Lowering his head dangerously quietly, the black tom mewed, "And to think Boulderfur almost took her away from me. If I'm going to return, what's stopping Boulderfur doing the same?"

It would be a lie to claim he knew the answer. Though after Crowfeather accepted living with the trainees, including Breezepelt himself, he doubted Boulderfur was beyond his capabilities. Ironically, it might give Breezepelt some perspective. It would throw him into a similar situation that his victims were in, needing to live beside their aggressors. At last responding, Crowfeather tried working it to their advantage, "I don't know but look at this way - If you're willing to have Boulderfur as a clanmate again, it'll prove you're changing to Windclan."

Backing up a few paces, Breezepelt miserably glanced down at his paws, his usual sullen expression. Was he not willing to do that? What happened to put in the effort? Crowfeather silently questioned, aware he couldn't let the words escape his lips. Raising his muzzle again, Breezepelt hissed, "I'll tolerate him - But he will never be my clanmate. A stoat is worthier of my time then that scrawny maggot! Even if we live in the same camp, he won't walk within a tail length of me."

Reluctantly nodding, Crowfeather knew he couldn't get a better answer. The main part was ensuring they didn't attack each other again. Before that could happen though, Breezepelt still needed to prove himself to Windclan. There was the possibility of gathering herbs or providing extra prey. Though Crowfeather could already imagine Breezepelt complaining they weren't proper warrior duties and getting restless from boredom.

Then, Crowfeather noticed the stoat bodies flung around, "Another thing you could hunt those filthy stoats and present them on the border. Put that anger to good use. Your worst accuser couldn't deny the redemption in that. We can meet up here in a quarter-moon for updates.". A sly snigger grew over Breezepelt's lips like growing weeds, sliding his broken claws into leafy earth. Worryingly, sick glee sparked in his eyes when he realised his mission. At least Crowfeather knew it would fit his son well.

With plan sorted out, the senior warrior was about to announce his farewell, but a dark question kept him stuck to the spot, like twisting roots slivering around his paws. Tonight had revealed Breezepelt had hidden details of his crimes to gain sympathy from his clanmates. It kept growing in a piling list of crimes, making Crowfeather wonder what the true reality was? Was every stone upturned or were untold horrors still lurking underneath?

"Before I do all this, I have to ensure I don't make the same mistake twice.", Crowfeather spoke sharply, making his son's ears twitch, "Breezepelt, today's trial exposed the fact I accepted you under false conditions. Perhaps my forgiveness hasn't reached its limits yet. But I need to know: Lionblaze's murder, Onestar's assault and the trainees' mistreatment - Is that's the full extent of your crimes?"

Crowfeather's heart pounded like jabbing paws beating on his chest. His head became devoid of emotion, preparing for whatever revelation the next moment brought. Was Breezepelt truly the bloodthirsty traitor so many cats had been preaching? Taken aback by the question, Breezepelt kept quiet as his tail stiffly swayed through the gently wind. Opening his jaw for a moment, he clamped it down, thinking better of it.

With another pause, the rogue choice his final answer, "That's everything that's happened, you can be sure of that. When you reached me in the Great Battle, it finally exposed what the Dark Forest's lies had done to me. They forced me to lose myself as a loyal warrior. If I had the chance to snap out of their tricky sooner, I'd happily shred their pelts. Doing anything worse would prove they won over me, which won't happen.".

Crowfeather didn't know whether to believe him or not. A familiar expression came over Breezepelt's face, the same he'd make an apprentice, wanting approval from a distant father. That constant disbelief, that had stained Breezepelt with his brother's blood. Guilt overwhelming his senses, he almost tripped, Crowfeather choked out, "I believe you.".

Pricking his ears in surprise, Breezepelt bowed his head low. He was grateful or conflicted? It wasn't Crowfeather's right to question him any more. He was done berating him. Returning the nod, Crowfeather grasped the stoats by their stumpy tails. Those gifts would begin Breezepelt's journey back to Windclan. Vanishing into the green lake of undergrowth stems neatly slid aside he stroked through them like rippling water.

The world around him blurred, as it didn't make sense anymore. Cold numbness spread to his core.

*****************************

With one stoat each, Crowfeather and Featherpaw pushed aside the thorns into Windclan camp. Any hopes of an unnoticed enter were dashed as Onestar spotted them, crouched on his isolated perch. Grumbling to himself, the leader leapt down to meet them, "A search patrol was almost sent out, Featherpaw. For Starclan's sake, I expected better!".

The silver apprentice shrunk in her pelt, shuffling behind her mentor. His conversation with Breezeepelt had already raised his stress levels, he didn't need to deal with Onestar too! Laying the limp prey at his paws, Crowfeather snapped back, "Don't blame her for wanting to support me. It was foolish of me to seek out Breezepelt alone."

At Breezepelt's mention, Onestar's demeanour darkened. Being angry at a defiant warrior was reasonable, but this somehow felt different. The brown tabby's threats were tipped with a snarl, "I tried fulfilling Windclan's wishes by banishing Breezepelt and you're already undermining that? Think carefully of who I am, Crowfeather. As the Leader who spared you for your Half-Clan nonsense, I can easily take it back."

Shuddering, Crowfeather couldn't believe Onestar might revoke his sentence from seasons ago. More like an excuse to maintain his pride! Keenly aware of his place in Windclan was at risk, Crowfeather tiptoed around the Leader's ego like a deadly fire. Nudging the stoat forward with his muzzle, he signalled for Featherpaw to do the same. Onestar was simply confused by the offerings. "It wasn't a waste of time, I promise.", he hurriedly explained, "Breezepelt agreed to hunt the stoats until you reconsider his exile."

Disappointingly, Onestar shook his head scornfully, "There's no point. If the Gathering got whiff of us reaccepting outlaws overnight, they'll think we're weak-willed rabbits.". How much Crowfeather hated to admit it, Onestar had a point. Blind-sighted with getting his son back, he hadn't considered the wider effect on Windclan. Yet at the same time, the current situation couldn't get much worse anyway. Already, their leader was an exposed fraud and the Whole Clan agreed to a murderer's deal. Somehow, despite being an apprentice a few moons ago, Boulderfur had humiliated them all.

If Crowfeather ever wished to be deputy, he had to toughen his political manoeuvring. No better time than the present. "That's only if the Gathering gets whiff of it.", he suggested, "With two missing warriors, questions will be unavoidable. However, if you reaccept them and everyone keeps their mouth shut, the other Clans will be none the wiser.". Regardless of if he was stooping to Onestar's level, Crowfeather knew it was the only way he'd listen.

A subtle purr came from Onestar as he was freely handed the solution to keep Windclan's reputation. Did he have the slightest genuine care for Breezepelt? Was he a pawn or a clanmate to Onestar? Since it would be pointless to fuse over the spineless cat, Crowfeather left him with his thoughts. Dropping the stoats on the fresh-kill pile, he guided Featherpaw to the Medicine den. "Thanks, you saved me cleaning the elder's fleas for a moon.", the apprenticed mewed, returning to her empty nest beside a slumbering Hootpaw.

Before he could reply, angry ramblings came from the other side of the Medicine den. Huddled in a group of three, Whitetail seemed exhausted under the endless chatter of Nightcloud and Heathertail. Relief flooded Crowfeather, knowing he wouldn't outlive his former apprentice. Even her weakened state didn't stop her sharp tongue, obviously stunned to discover what happened to Breezepelt. As poor Whitetail seemed at her limit, Crowfeather hurried over with his report. He'd never thought he'd been the bringer of good news.

"Where have you been? You can't wander off at a time like this!", Nightcloud demanded, her voice still shaky from the poppy seeds. Was she concerned for his safety or annoyed he'd seemingly abandoned his family? With more important matters, Crowfeather pressed on with the conversation, "I've been speaking to Breezepelt", he quickly explained, "He wants to get back into Windclan and willing to hunt the stoats to do it.".

Immediately, Heathertail and Nightcloud's ears pricked up with excitement. "This is what I've been saying.", the brown she-cat huffed, "Breezepelt risked his life for me. He's proven he wants to change, so it's featherbrained for Windclan to throw that away."

Springing to her paws like a hyper kit, Nightcloud stuck her muzzle right into Crowfeather's face before he could step away in discomfort. His former mate's breath was hot on his whiskers, "Has he already hunted those stoats? That evidence will shut up Breezepelt's bullies once and for all!"

As Crowfeather pointed to the Fresh-kill pile with his tail, Nightcloud bolted out the den like black lightning. He couldn't help but be impressed by how determined she was to get their son back. Though as Nightcloud was rummaging through the prey for the two stoats, a thought came to his mind. No one could doubt Nightcloud's determination to serve her Clan, but that didn't atomically translate to social popularity. While she was skilled, public speaking was not one of them. Her blind passion could end up hurting Breezepelt's case. Instead, this job would be far more sorted to Heathertail.

Acting fast, Crowfeather leaned over to his former apprentice, "It'll probably be better for you to speak to the Clan.", he whispered. They shared the same concern, as Heathertail nodded, climbing onto Crowfeather's shoulder and limping towards the entrance. Whitetail stayed beside her daughter for every step, constantly checking on her wounds. As they entered the lip of the entrance, Nightcloud had the two stoats neatly laid out in the centre of camp. "Let all cats old enough to catch their prey, gather outside for a Clan meeting.", she commanded.

Hunched at the edge, Onestar was fuming that another warrior was ignoring his authority. Swallowing down, Crowfeather reminded himself to be careful around him. He had no true allegiances, only caring what kept Windclan's reputation. It mattered what would keep the three Leaders' suspensions off Onestar's back, either Breezepelt's discrete return or sudden disappearance. Though if they pushed it too far, both of Breezepelt's parents could be joining him in exile.

At last, cats sluggishly shook the bedding from their pelts. Confused mutters rose up as they realised a random warrior called the meeting, not the leader. To the point, some warriors didn't bother to get out their nests, trying to get back to sleep. With only half of Windclan listening, Nightcloud spoke up, "Earlier, Windclan took my son away from me. This has to change!".

With that rowdy opening to the speech, Crowfeather shuffled Heathertail into place beside the black she-cat, "Breezepelt has done wrong and I'm not asking anyone to forgive him. However, falsely punishing someone is inexcusable, no matter who it is. A victim being exiled alongside his murderer, is not justice. Boulderfur has blindsight us. But we can stop him winning by giving Breezepelt a fair trial."

Pride swelled inside Crowfeather, glad he was able to train such a fine warrior. If he ever became Leader, Heathertail would be his first choice as deputy. Meanwhile, Nightcloud's reaction to the speech was highly mixed, Crowfeather almost reading her mind: I appropriate the support but you're going too soft on the cats who banished Breezepelt.

As expected, their clanmates' reception wasn't positive; either they thought Breezepelt was a lost cause or generally wanted him to remain in exile. Emberfoot's words reflected what everyone was thinking, "The sentiment is nice, but isn't it too late? Breezepelt might want revenge on Windclan all over again.".

Knowing it was his turn, Crowfeather rose to his paws, his voice echoing across the dark clearing like a cave, "That's not true. I spoke to Breezepelt earlier and he wants to prove himself even more. He's already hunted two stoats and vowed to hunt more until he's reaccepted."

Nightcloud nudged the stoats forward, expecting everyone to be impressed. While it wasn't the trilled reaction they were seeking, it made the open-minded warriors ponder. Though Breezepelt willingness to forgive Boulderfur still had to keep under wraps by Crowfeather. Since Nightcloud hadn't given him time to inform her beforehand, she'd be discovering it alongside the rest of the meeting. If she took it too far and protested Boulderfur's return, that double standard could damage Breezepelt's fragile case. Curiously, Crowfeather glanced at the pale rogue's sister, Fuzepelt, wondering if she wanted her brother coming back. After all, as someone already in deep water as a trainee, Boulderfur's recklessness put her at risk.

His attention was forced elsewhere as Heathertail continued the argument, "In today's stoat attack, Breezepelt risked his life to fight beside me and his father. He has loved ones he'll die for. Would a true Dark Forest warrior do this? No! Breezepelt has potential and we just need to give him the chance to achieve it. Exiling him was a waste, it doesn't solve anything!".

Inevitably, the difficult questions started rolling in. Which Crowfeather wasn't wholly prepared for since he'd never dare to defend Lionblaze's attempted murder. Sorrowfully shaking his head, Crounchfoot called out, "Breezepelt wasn't exiled for already forgiven deeds. He committed new ones by hiding his crimes and attacking Boulderfur.".

Using all her self control to remain settled, Nightcloud signalled towards Onestar on top of the Tallrock. Flattened ears faced his direction, no longer popular with his exposed cover-up. Despite that, Nightcloud still used him as her evidence, "Onestar himself deemed it unnecessary to tell the Clan, so Breezepelt isn't at fault for following his leader's orders. Then the claims of Breezepelt abusing the other trainees is laughable. You're all guilty of tearing each other apart in that ridiculous training."

Remembering the details, Crowfeather could only conclude, it was complicated. Clearly, Breezepelt had been the worst one, but his fellow trainees still helped initiate it. Antpelt's murder couldn't have been secret if every trainee hadn't agreed to it. Though Breezepelt standing aside as the Dark forest executed defectors, was far less defensible. Arguably, it had already been excused, since his new oath covered all his actions in the Great Battle. It's pointless to punish him for a smaller detail when his general behaviour had already been dismissed.

Mumbling, Crowfeather started to question his intelligence, as this complex situation was making his head hurt. This would have been easier if the Leaders bothered to judge the trainees on a case by case basis, instead of forgiving them in one swoop. Now they were stuck in this position a moon later - Onestar making everything worse by hiding Breezepelt's attack on him. Windclan was left to unravel a tangled webbing of lies and truths, unclear which was which.

Crounchfoot pressed on with his counter, "You still haven't addressed Boulderfur's attack, Nightcloud. He was already on trial, so Breezepelt had no excuse to fight him.". The meeting sounded their agreement, making Nightcloud lash her tail. It made Crowfeather wonder if they considered it a mere assault or a murder attempt. Even he didn't know the answer. Due to Breezepelt's past, Windclan were likely to jump to conclusions. 

Luckily, Heathertail was there to strike back with points of her own, "We're not here to debate the mortals of Breezepelt's actions. They're obviously wrong. We're here to debate his punishment. Giving him the same sentence as Boulderfur was too far. We wouldn't have exiled another cat for snapping at their killer, there's no denying that. It's safe to say, we allowed ourselves to be biased and treated him too harshly."

Many were struggling to understand the meeting at this point, especially the poor apprentices. Crowfeather didn't blame them. If he wasn't personally involved, he wouldn't have cared to memorise the complex details. He had an easier time reciting the warrior code! The opposing side had several decanted members as well, wanting to see Breezepelt remain in exile. Heading to the front, Leaftail and Weaselfur were ready for the challenge.

"Breezepelt wasn't exiled for minor crimes.", Leaftail began, "It was more of a retrial, taking everything he'd done into account. Including the Great Battle, you like to gloss over so much. Breezepelt proved the oath wouldn't stop his dangerous ways, so we reconsidered his sentence accordingly.".

Envy spread across Crowfeather's pelt like painful bee stings. Foxdang! Since when did feeble Leaftail create coherent arguments? Usually, he'd stand at the sides lines, throwing in useless comments while a better-spoken cat did the heavy lifting. Notably, Gorsetail hadn't contributed to the meeting, when she used to be the unofficial leader of Breezepelt's protestors. Without her, Leaftail had been forced to step up. Instead, Gorsetail remained in her nest, half-listening. What were her motives now?

Before Nighcloud could interrupt, Weaselfur dived into Leaftail's aid, "When Breezepelt was first forgiven, it was under a bunch of lies anyway! He fought against Windclan, that's a fact. Every Windclan cat that died is another stain on Breezepelt's paws." The brown tabby puffed up his chest proudly, deluding himself into thinking his belief was nobler then theirs. This isn't as simple as you'd like, featherbrain!

Though Nightcloud didn't help the divide with an equally aggressive reply, "Stop putting impossible standards onto him! He couldn't have stopped every death, even if he tried. I'm sure Breezepelt didn't want the mindless slaughter. But he had his own personal targets. The Great battle was simply the opportunity he used to reach them. He had no interest in Windclan."

Breezepelt's personal targets? They were Crowfeather's kits! Of course, Nightcloud didn't need to accept them, they rightfully hadn't, but downgrading their attempted murders was downright cold. He desperately didn't want their mutual resentment to sink so low. How closely did Nightcloud's hatred matched Breezepelt's? Did she have any remorse for Lionblaze's near-death?

Weaslefur's tail twitched with annoyance, "Then how do you explain Oatpaw's story, featherbrain? Breezepelt attacked Onestar and chased Crowfeather, two Windclan cats!"

Nightcloud smugly licked her chest, finally confident she had control, "He reared above Onestar and ran after Crowfeather. Until you show the physical scars, you can't prove my son's intentions."

Even Crowfeather knew it was a lacklustre point, but he didn't want to give Nightcloud the excuse to hate him more. Leaftail snorted, unimpressed, "Technicalities, seriously?".

Nightcloud took a step closer to him, "It's innocent until proven guilty. We must give Breezepelt the benefit of the doubt. If you got accused, you'd want it to be the same!"

The discussion wasn't going in their favour, as Breezepelt's defence had been reduced scavenging the details of the opposition's undeniable evidence. His crimes were unmistakable, it was pointless to say otherwise. The only strategy left was to balance it out with the good deeds he'd done, proving his potential to be a loyal warrior. Crowfeather realised he was needed, as he was the only with any valid evidence left.

Regardless of how Nightcloud reacted, the senior warrior pressed on, "Breezepelt needs to trial of his own. Every other time, he had murderers manipulating him, never on his own convictions. He's always shown potential; as an apprentice he helped find Gorsetail's kits and even now, he says he's willing to have Boulderfur as clanmate again if it comes to it.".

Of course to that, Nightcloud's muscles strained, stunned that her prideful son would do that. With different circumstances, he wouldn't as being the unforgiving type. For once, so he wouldn't be spending his life as a rouge, he'd have to accept it. At last, Onestar did his job at kept the peace at the meeting. "This has gone on long enough!", he called, leaping into between the two sides, "It's clear the answer lies somewhere in the middle. We exiled Breezepelt too quickly, but he still has to do more to redeem himself. I believe we already have the perfect setup. He'll continue hunting the stoats until we're ready to give him a retrial, probably this Half-moon. We will make the final verdict than".

Both sides nodded, knowing it was the best result they'd get without resorting to clawing each other. Though Crowfeather dreaded that the retrial was taking place at the Half-moon.

That was roughly nine sunsets away and in that time, anything could happen to Breezepelt. Hunting stoats alone without the backup of his Clanmates, could be fatal for him. Don't be a reckless featherbrain! Crowfeather silently begged.

Furzepelt's shy voice rose, "Can we reconsider Boulderfur as well?". Considering the grey tom insisted on his exile, Crowfeather doubted he'd accept the offer. Tearing at the grass under his paws, Onestar seemed to he was ready to jump out of his skin in frustration. It was being asked to make all those chooses in the middle of the night after all. Knowing when he was needed, Harespring gave out orders on his behalf, "We'll discuss this tomorrow. We can't afford to be sleep-deprived, Windclan must still continue with it's usual routine, with or without it's exiles."


	4. Chapter 4.

Five sunsets had passed since Breezepelt had gone. During that time, Nightcloud tracked him down to deliver the news of his retrial at the Half Moon. That night had been the roughest, as Crowfeather assumed she wouldn't return because Breezepelt asked her to stay with him. Yet whatever happened between the mother and son, convinced the female warrior that she couldn't protect him forever. He was no longer her dependent newborn. Crowfeather could only hope it was because Breezepelt was finally starting to learn. All his problems couldn't be solved by whining like a misfit kit or mauling like a bloodthirsty rogue. 

It was hard to adjust that he could wander around the camp, without Breezepelt's fierce amber gaze burning into Crowfeather's fur, questioning his every move. It had been their unspoken talent to avoid each other, not that it was useful anymore. At Furzepelt's request, Windclan discussed Boulderfur's final fate. To her dismay, they decided to take no further action. Windclan was satisfied he'd been given a fair hearing, especially since he insisted on his own punishment. The single word Crowfeather would call Boulderfur by this point; Idiot. He's partially achieved nothing, only setting Windclan back slightly - Breezepelt was going to return soon and the injuries from his backfired plan were healing. 

Though admittedly, they weren't in the clear yet. The Half-Moon wouldn't be Breezepelt's welcoming party, it was his retrial after all. There was no guarantee Windclan's stance would be different. His main way of changing their minds was relentlessly hunting the stoats. Already, border patrols had found eight shredded stoats over the previous days. Nightcloud was almost obsessive of increasing her son's chances, collecting his catches and preaching to anyone who'd listen. Now, she'd created a pile of stoat pelts to show off Breezepelt's achievement. 

Onestar had ordered the pile to be shifted outside of the Camp's walls since it had been scaring the kits and apprentices. It was an impressive, yet morbid sight. Even Crowfeather wondered if this blind massacre could really be redemption. Those vicious stoats needed to be slain or driven out, it was fleabrained to think otherwise. Though the way Breezepelt's prey had been slain was brutal, beyond the necessary killing bite. If they'd been swapped out for cats, it was disturbingly similar to the Great Battle - Breezepelt's rampage went after anyone, from his brother to Clan leader.

Not only that, but Crowfeather feared for Breezepelt's very life. Separated from his clanmates, he could get easily overwhelmed by the stoats. Worse, he didn't have a Medicine cat to stop his wounds being infected even if he survived the initial fights. It was four more days he needed to live in the uncharted lands until his retrial. Perhaps Crowfeather was worrying too much, this was Breezepelt after all. For now, all he could do is keep a keen eye for warning signs. 

Distracting himself with Featherpaw's training, they stumbled back to camp after a lengthy hunt, carrying a pitiful two rabbits and a mole. Leaf-bare, gotta love it. Getting her to deliver a single rabbit to the elders, Crowfeather settled down with the mole. Lazily chewing the salty meat, he kept his ears pricked for the bustling activity around him. Besides from the usual, the only noteworthy aspect was Gorsetail and Larkwing tucked away in a far corner. Were they trying to hide their conversation? 

The two were kin as Larkwing was the kit of Gorsetail's daughter. Despite that, the older she-cat had disowned her alongside every trainee. Why were they interacting again? Snorting, Crowfeather assumed the worst. Gorsetail was probably ordering Larkwing to never go near her. What else did he expect from the cat who casually uttered Breezepelt was better off dead? Had she given Boulderfur the idea to turn it into reality? 

"May I join you?", Furzepelt asked abruptly, making Crowfeather swallow down the wrong way. As he began coughing, Furzepelt quickly sent blows to his shoulder blades until the wretched meat went down his throat. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!", Furzepelt apologised, still shaken.

"Don't be!", the grumpy warrior exclaimed, "I'm the senior warrior being frightened like a kit.". He was letting himself get so distracted, he couldn't even function in his own home! Shaking the embarrassment from his pelt, Crowfeather twitched his tail for her to sit. As she stiffly joined him, they nippled the mole in silence. While Crowfeather often ate alone, when others did join him, it wasn't always this awkward. Though the reason was obvious since she was Boulderfur's sister.

It was a tedious balancing act; while it was wrong to mutually bound over their loved ones' crimes, he shouldn't project any blame onto her. If Nightcloud caught sight of them sharing prey, she'd be breathing down his neck. As they were half-way through the meal, Furzepelt finally spoke up, "How would you feel if I tracked down Boulderfur to convince him to stop with his self-exile?". 

Sighing, Crowfeather knew he'd already decided this a long time ago. All he wondered about now, was whether he should feel more strongly about this topic. Did it prove how much of failure he was at fatherhood? He could only shrug, "Do what you like. After all, we've done it with Breezepelt."

This didn't satisfy Furzepelt, her tail tip twitching with annoyance, "Don't be so dismissive of this!", she objected, "This is your son's attempted murderer. You have to feel something! I don't want to overstep my boundaries.".

Her words dug into his core like snapping jaws, finally awakening some emotions inside him: Self-loathing, Disgust, Regret and so many others. Since Furzepelt opened up, he might as well loosen up. Throw away those thoughts into the Dark Forest where they belong!

Flattening his ears, Crowfeather spoke in a low tone, "I do, Furzepelt. Exhaustion. I've already had to deal with Breezepelt trying to kill his brother. So frankly, it would be hypocritical to say Boulderfur deserves worse. I'll never see him in the same way, but it's like that with many cats. If you need to bring your brother back, I'll tone it out. This mess started with me, so I won't dare to make it worse."

Blinking with sympathy, the grey and white she-cat laid her tail across his flank, "Great Starclan.", she muttered, "Do you blame yourself for all this?". 

Swallowing his last bite of mole, Crowfeather lifted himself and began padding away, "I'm too far in to know who's to blame anymore. Though I owe it to everyone to make things better." 

Twitching her ears in acknowledgement, Furzepelt's eyes then flickered towards the Warriors Den. She may get the Father's approval, but she still had to ask the mother. Certainly, Nightcloud would be a different story altogether. When she wasn't working her paws off to get Breezepelt back, she was in a restless sleep, dreaming she could do more. All Crowfeather could provide Furzepelt was the basic advice, "Prepared to be shouted at.", he mewed behind his shoulder. 

With a nod, the young warrior steadily made her way to the Warriors den, checking if Nightcloud was awake. There was little Crowfeather could do for either of them. He wasn't Nightcloud's mentor, she was his equal as a fellow warrior - It wasn't his place to moderate her every argument. This was the deepest of personal choices, so he wasn't going to interfere. 

Waiting for the commotion to blow over, Crowfeather switched courses to the Medicine den, since Heathertail needed to hear of Furzepelt's plans as well. Ducking under the low archway, he scanned the narrow cave hidden from the sun, casting dull grey shadows. "Accepting visitors?", Crowfeather asked Kestrilflight, stacking herbs in a tight corner. 

"Yep, just don't encourage Heathertail to move around too much.", he replied, not turning away from his work. 

"Honestly, I'm not a fidgeting apprentice, Kestrelflight. We're the same age.", Heathertail huffed, rolling her eyes. The brown she-cat laid on her side, her flank still patched up with herb pulp. At the worst injured, it would take another day for her to be fighting fit. Her mother, Whitetail dozed next to her, determined to keep her safe. 

"How's your flank holding up?", he asked, tucking his paws under as he laid down next to her. 

Giving her wound a nervous lick, Heathertail mewed, "Stings, but I'll live. There shouldn't be any permanent fur lost. Hopefully.". 

With the small talk over, Crowfeather had to get to the point. Whitetail's chest rose gently as she drifted off to sleep, confident she could finally rest with someone else watching Heathertail. Without the third cat listening in, it would make the news breaking less messy. 

Crowfeather tried not to let his pelt bristle, "Furzepelt just came to me and she wants to do the same as we did for Breezepelt - Track Boulderfur down and convince him to return."

Instead of anger or fear, Heathertail's face lit up with sympathy. Though he doubted it was Boulderfur, it was likely for Furzepelt as her former apprentice. A few moons ago, her and Breezepelt had been training the two littermates together. It's what allowed their relationship to blossom further than friendship. Heathertail sorrowfully shook her head, "I think she should be allowed to do it. But her sake, not Boulderfur's. He's already stuck in his ways when he insisted on his own exile, and Furzepelt needs to see that personally." 

From experience, Crowfeather knew it was hard to predict what dangerous individuals were capable of, including Boulderfur. Clawing at the stony floor, Crowfeather warned her, "We can't know with that slippery weasel. I never thought he could commit murder, and look what happened. Going back on his promise to accept punishment might not be beyond him."

Heathertail's voice rose with concern, "Do you think he'll go after Breezepelt again?".

It would be foolish to try! Boulderfur was already exiled, so a second incident could force someone to kill him in defence of Windclan. Praying to Starclan, Crowfeather wished it wouldn't be him. Among his forbidden relationships and estranged kits, being innocent of murder was the last thing he had left to cling onto. 

Then, considering Boulderfur accidentally got two patrols attacked by stoats, when he had one target, showed how incompetent of a murderer he was. That way, he might be even more dangerous. Crowfeather huffed, "Not just that, Boulderfur's featherbrained schemes could endanger more bystanders. He put you in the Medicine den!"

Heathertail snorted, "That's why I have less sympathy for Boulderfur, then Breezepelt. At least Breezepelt's actions were during a battle, while he threatened to ruin the peace!" 

Crowfeather could see the logic behind it. The Great Battle was the most devastating tragedy in living memory, everyone should see the importance of enforcing unity. So focused on ridding Windclan of Breezepelt, Boulderfur had failed to see the further-reaching consequences. If the divide between the trainees and warriors reopened, it could lead to the second wave of deaths. 

A distant yowling interrupted their conversation, as a rapid flicker of movements came from the Warriors den. A heartbeat later, Nightcloud strained to haul Furzepelt out by her scruff. With a grunt, she was roughly dropped to the floor. With an exposed belly, Nightcloud placed a single paw, claws flexing against the pale pelt. The two she-cats went nose to nose, Nightcloud growling, "Don't you ever bring this up again. Breezepelt has already suffered enough!".

Nightcloud purposefully stepped over a bewildered Furzepelt, trotting back to the Warriors den. Spotting the skirmish, Kestrilflight bolted out the cave to check for injuries. Since he promised to take an active role in fixing his messes, Crowfeather followed, wanting to check up on emotional damage, not physical ones. Out of nowhere, a vile scent penetrated his nose as if a thorn jabbed up his nostril. Did some idiot fall into a dung pile? 

As Kestrilflight sniffed at Furzepelt, Crowfeather stopped in his tracks, glancing at the Camp entrance. Another one of Breezepelt's stoats hanging from the jaws of a hunting patrol. Yet this was somehow different, mingled with reek of Windclan blood. Since Furzepelt seemed uninjured, Crowfeather went to investigate the stoat. "Can't you smell that?", he exclaimed as he approached the patrol. An untreated wound in the wilderness could be deadly! 

"We were going to report it.", Crounchfoot retorted defensively, "I'm afraid to say this is probably Breezepelt's blood.". 

"He was being set up for death! Hunting stoats in one thing, but not for days on end!", Crowfeather blurted, the protectiveness for his kit consuming him. It was his idea for Breezepelt to hunt the stoats and he allowed others to take it too far. He should have protested it more! The surrounding cats sensed the rising quarrel, pricking their ears in concern. This included Nightcloud, who peeked outside, narrowing her amber eyes. 

At last, Harespring arrived, someone with authority who could organize something. If Crowfeather or Nightcloud made contact with Breezepelt against orders again, it could push Onestar's short temper over the edge. The leader had already threatened to revoke his forgiveness for Crowfeather's forbidden mates. "What's going on?", Harespring mewed, landing nimbly as he sped over. 

Crounchfoot ran through the details as clanmates hovered closer to eavesdrop like nosy magpies, Nightcloud among them. At the mention of Breezepelt's blood, she froze in place before the adrenaline rippled through her muscles, visually twitching. "What are we waiting for? We have to go after him!", she hissed. 

Approving Nightcloud's determination, Harespring agreed, "If Breezepelt is already bleeding out, We'll need to send out a patrol immediately. Nightcloud, I already know all of Windclan couldn't stop you, so I'm assigning you and Crowfeather.". 

For a heartbeat, Nightcloud seemed doubtful, before the former mates stiffly nodded at each other. Swiftly searching for other volunteers, Harespring glanced at the growing crowd. A morbid thought came over Crowfeather. With Heathertail still in the Medicine den, those who generally wanted to save Breezepelt were dwindling. This moment would put Windclan to the test. Individuals like Leaftail preached they were better off without Breezepelt - Now there was the possibility he was dying, would they act on those promises? 

The last cats Crowfeather expected to step forward were Furzepelt and Gorsetail. It was immediately obvious their motives were deeper than wanting to save Breezepelt out of the goodness of their hearts. He had to suspend a growl in his throat. If they attempted something devious, they had another thing coming. Not even bothering to hide her suspicion, Nightcloud gritted her fangs. Though neither of them could vocally protest, as those cats could potentially be the only volunteers. 

Harespring gestured to the four cats towards the entrance, "May Starclan honour your paths", he added more hesitantly, ''I know Onestar will be proud when I inform him.". Doubtful Mumbles rose as they picked up on the half-heartedness of their deputy's speech. Everyone knew he was kidding himself, it was a good thing Onestar wasn't here. His moodiness would have made this situation needlessly difficult. Hurrying before the fickle leader could awaken from his den, the patrol pushed their way through the thistle tunnel. Crowfeather bristled slightly as Furzepelt brushed past his shoulder, eyeing her with mistrust. 

The long rolling fields of various greens stretched before them. The likelihood of finding Breezepelt in this vast landscape under a time limit, almost seemed impossible. Serval tree-lengths away from camp, Nightcloud abruptly halted. She swung her lean body towards the two other she-cats, her snarl on full display, "There's no hiding it from me. What are you planning? If you even hesitate to save my kit, I'll chase you away myself!". 

While Furzepelt paced backwards, Gorsetail met Nightcloud's challenge with equal determination. The tabby she-cat lifted her muzzle, "I won't be threatened for a mere association, Nightcloud! Boulderfur's actions were entirely independent. You've never allowed anyone to judge you as Breezepelt's mother - So practise what you preach!".

Memories flooded Crowfeather mind of the days after the Great Battle - The focus had been placed squarely on the trainees, so their influencers like their family was an afterthought. Amongst the endless criticism directed at Breezepelt, a single snide remark about his parents could have gone unnoticed. "What are you implying?", Nightcloud objected, "I was the only one supporting him! The rest of Windclan turned their backs on him."

Unconvinced, Gorsetail shook her head, "Spoiling him more like. He turned his back on us! From the day he turned an apprentice, he was an arrogant bully towards anyone trying to help him.". 

Stepping in before they wasted more time, Crowfeather laid his tail across Nightcloud's strained shoulders, "I think we can agree that everyone was at fault in some way. We can't change the past. But that hardly matters right now, Breezepelt's life on the line."

Swiping his tail away with her paw, Nightcloud's glare swept through the patrol, like a buzzard looking for crowfood to scavenge, "Breezepelt's life could be endangered more if we allow for traitors in our midst. So I'll ask it again, what are your motives?".

After the echoing silence dragged out for painfully long, Gorsetail broke it with a sigh. Her next words made too much sense, "Larkwing, alright.", she admitted, "It's obvious I'll never forgive Breezepelt, but as long he's around, hopefully, it'll distract from the other trainees."

Personally, Crowfeather didn't know what had happened amongst Gorsetail's family, but it convinced the grey she-cat to give her daughter's kit a second chance. Perhaps the trainees fighting the stoats had changed her mind. Though Nightcloud didn't seem to care for their similar experiences, "If keeping him alive didn't benefit you, I bet you wouldn't care if Breezepelt died! Furzepelt couldn't outdo you even if she tried."

Gorsetail made no effort to argue, keeping her lips tightly sealed. There was no need to speak, regardless, her silence confirmed it. Next, it was Furzepelt's turn. Swallowing down, she straightened up before speaking, "I can't allow this situation to escalate anymore. If Boulderfur finds Breezepelt injured, I can't imagine what would happen. I'm the one he'll listen to the most. Without me, someone could end up dying.". 

Snorting in disgust, Nightcloud signalled she didn't think highly of Furzepelt's conviction either. The main focus should be on saving Breezepelt, not a hypothetical that might not even happen. Did she see this patrol as an opportunity to see her brother again? After all, she'd been planning to convince Boulderfur to return home anyway. While Crowfeather had given her permission to pursue that goal, taking advantage of Breezepelt's rescue to do it limited his patience for her. 

Spinning on her heel to face the wider landscape, Nightcloud crouched down, bunching up her muscles as she prepared to dart forward. Briefly, she called behind her shoulder, "I won't lie, your selfish motives sicken me. But as long as your help keeps Breezepelt alive, I don't care. Just keep up!"

Crowfeather hardly had time to think, before he was forced to madly scramble to keep up with Nightcloud. Her long strides kicked up the brown grit under her paws, getting grains in his whispers. The whole patrol was heading east, towards the steepest hills of the whole moors. According to Crounchfoot's story, that's where the dead stoat tinted with Breezepelt's blood had been discovered. The weather had been on their side: With no recent rainstorms, Breezepelt's scent trail could only be threatened by the occasional gales they'd been having. 

Running for the longest time, they finally reached the border that neighboured no other Clan's territory. That made it rogue's land, where any cat was free to roam. Somewhere amongst the endless woods and farmlands was Breezepelt. Blending in with the dark shadow of the tallest hill, Nightcloud sniffed at the shrubbery. Of course, she picked up her son's scent instantly. "This is where he dropped off today's stoat.", she announced, pointing out a flattened grass patch with her tail. 

Approaching himself, Crowfeather spotted the tufts of stoats fur tangled with the rough weeds. Straining his eyes, the subtle specks of blood came into the view. The question became, how much of that blood belonged to his son? The red trail continued beyond the scrawny bush, heading over the border. Swallowing, the patrol nodded to each other and stepped over the scent marks. This far away from the Lake, signs of twolegs were starting to emerge, their fence poles jutting out the ground like brown worms. 

The red trail kept close to the fence line, which barricaded a wide-open field. It seemed the clouds had fallen from the sky as fluffy white shapes shuffled on the grass. Searching his memories of the Great journey, Crowfeather recalled they were named sheep. It has been seasons since he'd seen one as they never ventured near Windclan's moors. As they ducked under the fence, he caught a glance at Furzepelt. She was mesmerized by them, like an apprentice seeing the Lake for the first time. 

It was similar to Breezepelt's reaction when he journeyed to the Tribe of Rushing Water. If it happened earlier when he was six moons, he might have been happy to travel with his father. However, by the time he became a senior apprentice, they'd already gained their strained relationship. A day couldn't pass without Whitetail informing him of Breezepaw's bullying or fights. It often fell on Crowfeather's shoulders to scold his son, and it grew mundane quickly. They couldn't interact without assuming the worst of each other. The later moons of Breezepaw's apprenticeship had been an exhausting and intense experience.

The black apprentice never bothered to understand why his arrogant behaviour was wrong since it didn't align with his mother's promises of being the best. So he blamed everyone else for failing to see his potential, especially his father. When Crowfeather did attempt to bond, Breezepaw seemed to deter it, as if he and Nightcloud thought he wasn't capable of it without lying. But Crowfeather did know his potential, his eyes sparking with the same determination as Deadfoot. Yet the difference was, while the old deputy had selfless passion, Breezepelt's selfish arrogance. 

While the Clan taught it was honourable to sacrifice yourself for the larger population, Crowfeather's forbidden relationships taught him another lesson. There was happiness to be found if a cat selfishly chose a select few loved ones. If Breezepelt couldn't protect Windclan, he could have done it for Nightcloud. But Breezepelt's selfishness consumed him, allowing his heart to be too small. Not even his loved ones mattered in the Great battle, abandoning them to pursue revenge. 

"I know that scent anywhere, Breezepelt is nearby!", Nightcloud excitedly announced, immediately running ahead of the patrol. Not wasting time, Crowfeather was only a step behind her, relief flooding him. Then his head was swimming with worried thoughts. He didn't expected the journey to be so short. To avoid being accused of trespassing, Breezepelt should have travelled further from the border than this. Unless - He didn't have the energy to do so. The blood trail was getting alarmingly wide as his wounds must have opened up. 

The red path veered past the fences, heading towards a massive pile of cleanly cut logs, triangularly stacked with that twoleg perfection. There were gaps between the logs where a single cat could wriggle into. It was cramped, but it could serve as a desperate cat's den. Despite his son's scent telling Crowfeather he was nearby, it was still hard to believe. Prideful Breezepelt relying on Twoleg objects for shelter? It seemed impossible. For better or for worse, Breezepelt would take the extra risk to drag himself to natural bushes. 

Somehow, Crowfeather was proven wrong as he caught a muffled voice. It was coming from the other side of logs, as quiet as a whisper. His heart froze over with a bitter frost as he recognized who it was, "You brought this on yourself. If you had your last semblance of honour and accepted your exile; everyone would be safe. You'd get to live but our clanmates wouldn't be at the mercy of your relentless bloodlust. Of course, that was beyond you, Breezepelt. You had to make your loved ones grieve. Because you think you're exempt from everything."

Furzepelt's jaw dropped, her fur rippling along her spine like a snake, "Is that my brother?". As soon as the last word escaped the young she-cat's mouth, Nightcloud bolted up the log stacks, flakes of bark chipping off as she madly scrambled. Swishing his tail for Furzepelt and Gorsetail to follow, Crowfeather dug his claws deep into the soft bark. Out of his comfort zone climbing, he felt a rush of fear. What if they didn't make it in time before Boulderfur slit Breezepelt's throat? Suddenly, he felt weightless as Gorsetail used her body as a platform, boosting him upwards. "Hurry!", she ordered. Nodding with arrival, Crowfeather bunched up his muscles, springing into the air.

Grunting as he landed hard on the woody surface, Crowfeather was half-way up the log stack, Nightcloud a fox-length ahead. Her expression was pure protectiveness, never able to focus anywhere else but ahead. A few heartbeats dragging on, they finally made it to the peak like a mountain top. Having a clear view, they spotted Boulderfur crouched on a dead branch, jutting out from the main logs. Under him, was Breezepelt awkwardly hanging out of the gap between two logs, having collapsed before he could conceal himself in the musty interior. Like vines of ivy, long crimson gushes snaked around his limp body, bubbling with fresh blood. What those stoats were capable of was truly vile. 

The pale tom's blue eyes widened as Crowfeather and Nightcloud revealed themselves, standing steadily side by side. Before he uttered a word, Breezepelt's mother roared, leaving dust in her wake as she leapt to defend her son. Like black lightning, she slammed into Boulderfur squarely in the flank. Unable to get their footing on the vertical area, they helplessly rolled down in swirling fur. However, Nightcloud kept a tight grip on Boulderfur's shoulders, keeping him close every time he tried to dart away. Every time they bounced, Crowfeather swore they'd break their necks. This was the most dangerous place to fight! 

As the distance kept growing as they fell, Crowfeather hopelessly tried to keep up. Nobody was going to die under his watch!


End file.
